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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267668">Beginner's guide to dealing with monsters</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuffelJelkin/pseuds/RuffelJelkin'>RuffelJelkin</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abigal and Alucard [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Castlevania (Cartoon)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gonna hurt him though, I just want good things for Alucard, M/M, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Slow Burn-ish, every writer ever, i guess, local neighborhood witch terrorizes people for fun and benefit, of course there's a tag for it, pls somebody help me with my grammar errors, takes place after season 3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:06:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>21,500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28267668</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuffelJelkin/pseuds/RuffelJelkin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“One would assume,” said Alucard stepping out, “it’s obvious as it is,” he grasped the silver sword as it flew through the air and slashed it down in a wide arc, “that I wish not to be bothered.”<br/>He remained stood in front of gaping entrance of the castle.<br/>“Yes, your outdoor decorations do get that message across,” answered a hideous looking being that idled rather nonchalantly at the castle steps, “They also pose a rather serious health hazard. I mean corpses out in the open like this – it’s all incredibly unhygienic.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Abigal and Alucard [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The impalement situation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This is not how the stories usually go, is it now? In the stories the adventurer, knight, young prince confronts the great evil and through tremendous effort manages to end the demon that had been plaguing the innocent people with unnameable horrors. And thereupon the adventurer, knight, young prince revels in his great achievement and is henceforth free to fulfil his future ambitious to the largest – to return home as a saint and a hero, to get married to the love of his life, inherit a kingdom and have many happy healthy children.</p><p>But there was something very wrong with this story. And it only kept on getting worse. Alucard wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out how it ended – he had already suffered enough.</p><p>But, you know, in those stories the hero doesn’t generally kill his own father.</p><p>That is commonly considered bit… inhuman.</p><p>But that’s what Alucard is, isn’t he?</p><p>Because <em>he </em>is a dhampir.</p><p>And what else is a dhampir than something that lurks at the border of human and inhuman being thousands of times more forbidding in its state of indeterminacy. No wonder people would like cut him open with daggers and bind him down with silver.</p><p>It was a pity really. Such fine skin ruined with those hideous scars. But that wasn’t reason Alucard spent long hours sitting in front of the tall silver mirror tracing his finger up and down the red welts.</p><p>No, in those wounds was mirrored his own ruination – what he was, what he had done and, most importantly, what else he <em>will </em>surely yet do.</p><p>The world had, through sorrow and bloodshed, shown him his place. And it was clearer now than ever that he had never been the hero.</p><p>No doubt it was a shocking revelation but Alucard had stopped crying over his misfortunes a while ago (or maybe it hadn’t been awhile, time felt like distant memory, like a confusing theory from some old philosophy book that you couldn’t quite remember).  As a matter of fact, Alucard didn’t feel sad anymore, he felt insane. And oh how alluring that insanity was.</p><p>It was so alluring that all he could do was stay transfixed staring at his own reflection as inch by inch his being twisted and distorted into something he could no longer recognize at all. </p><p>But nevertheless, there was some sort of a sick pleasure in becoming undone. So Alucard let his sanity unravel slowly, he felt there was no rushing such things, in all probability you only get to experience it once in your life – better to saviour it. And for all that Alucard cared he could stay in that state of dissolving forever. Until perhaps a true hero comes one day and slays him for good.</p><p>---</p><p>“I feel witchcraft upon me, brother Grenfolus,” said the village head of Noslac solemnly as he lay buried between dozens of pillows and a huge patchwork blanket.</p><p>“That’s… unlikely. What exactly has lead you come to this conviction?” asked Abigal who may or may not have been posing as the local healer known under name of brother Grenfolus. He was a short gaunt looking man with frizzled ginger hair that almost reached his shoulders. His hollowed eyes were peculiarly black and always glistened wetly.  It gave him a bit sickly appearance. That and his consistently peevish expression.</p><p>
  <em>It was not, technically speaking, Abigal’s fault that he was naturally so good at black magic. He really had most sincerely wanted to become a monk. Albeit his reasons were perhaps not entirely religious. It just so happened to be that given the times and circumstances a monastery was the best place to seek education and the company of the other scholars. Alternatively, you could conduct research individually. And get burned at the stakes. Although the priests insist constantly that all knowledge and enlightenment comes from God and is therefore holy in its nature.</em>
</p><p> “The other day I was walking through the market and this old lady stared at me with a look of utter loathing and then she spat over her left shoulder and the following morning I had this most awful illness.”</p><p>Abigal decided it was best not to mention that the old lady in question was probably just unhappy with the new linen tax that the village head had recently implemented.</p><p>“And this most awful illness is in this case…?”</p><p>“Fever.”</p><p>“Ah, of course,” Abigal was sporting a specific type of blank expression that is typical to someone who is trying very hard not to roll their eyes, “And you are completely certain the fever isn’t from natural causes?”</p><p>
  <em>It was really not his intention to “meddle with forces of the hell” as the preachers like to say. Furthermore, he found the unholy book from the monastery library. And he only became enthralled with the wretched looking notebook because it was written in a language he had not before seen and it evoked his linguistic interest.</em>
</p><p> “Absolutely, brother Grenfolus. The Devil is at work in here. He is testing my devotion to God with these most vivid fever dreams and his filling them with an array of indecent images. The other night I saw a dream about three-”</p><p>Abigal swiftly decided didn’t want know any specifics of those indecent dreams.</p><p>“Well, unfortunately mister Dorinel, I am only equipped to tend to the ailments of the physical body.”</p><p>
  <em>Strangely enough, there was something very down to earth about witchcraft. Or perhaps it was just the attitude of the mysterious author of the notes. Amongst all the other things that Abigal found himself continuously questioning, the notebook actually made lots of sense.</em>
</p><p> “So may I recommend this blend of herbs for your fever?”</p><p>The village head sighed disappointedly, “Well, I suppose.”</p><p>Abigal reached for a tiny class bottle in his medical bag and offered it to mister Dorinel. The village elder accepted it with badly disguised disappointment.</p><p>“As for the torments that the devil is throwing upon you - there’s no remedy to witchcraft other than prayer. I advise you pay an additional visit to the church this week. I’m quite certain that father Viorel will gladly help you through these trials of faith.”</p><p>Abigal tried not to be too amused about the idea of mister Dorinel and father Viorel intensively discussing the village master’s indecent dreams in the confessional.</p><p> <em>His increasingly intimate relationship with sorcery was however unbeknownst to the other occupants of the monastery and hence it was just a little bit ironic when he got exiled from the cloister instead for his heretic interpretation of the bible. Not, you know, for selling his soul to the devil and so further.</em></p><p> “I believe this everything I can too for you now,” Abigal started backing his medical bag, “I will come and check on your condition in few days.”</p><p>He smoothed down his clergy robes and stood up.</p><p>“But what about the witch?” said the village head with anguish, “Should I call for witch hunters?”</p><p>Abigal froze.</p><p> “I’m sure whatever wicked spirits will flee this village as soon as you find your faith,” he said with a slightly nervous smile.</p><p>
  <em>As his career as a monk ended rather abruptly and he was theoretically no longer welcome on the holy land of Wallachia, Abigal had no other option but to take on the identity of a pilgrim and flee to some place where he wouldn’t be recognised. It just so happened that the village of Noslac was in dire need of a healer.</em>
</p><p> “Anyways, have a good day sire.”</p><p>Abigal stepped to the door and put on his wide-brimmed straw hat. Hastily bidding farewell to the rest of the household he started walking through the small village.</p><p>Abigal’s cottage was located in the valley. Village folk didn’t like to go nearby the valley because above on the higher ground between the steep mountains laid the ruins of the Belmont estate which cast a shadow of gloom over the neighbouring woods. Villagers were certain that the old manor is cursed. Abigal really wasn’t that concerned with curses.</p><p>Nonetheless, it had been the village elder lady who pointed out that the old town healer’s hut was in the woods and rather vacated, should he be seeking for a place to settle down. And for Abigal the remote location of the house only added to the benefits. He accepted the offer gladly. And thus, for as much as he was concerned, Noslac was his new home.</p><p>Abigal walked unhurriedly along the narrow forest road when he noticed a figure appearing from afar. Blundering over their legs while running the stranger seemed to be in great hurry.</p><p>Abigal squinted his eyes.</p><p>“Ionas? Is that you?” he called out.</p><p>Ionas, the blacksmith’s son, looked up startled, stumbled behind a tree root and fell rather ungracefully on his face. Abigal winced.</p><p>Ionas shuffled up quickly and pinched his bleeding nose.</p><p>“There are corpses in the woods!” he shot out, “And this gigantic castle that looks really hideous!”</p><p>Abigal cleared his throat, “Corpses?”</p><p>The bulky looking boy was staring around with crazed eyes and breathing heavily.</p><p>“Impaled! On stakes! In front of the castle!”</p><p>“What castle, Ionas?”</p><p>“The one at the old Belmont estate.”</p><p>
  <em>Oh, this is not good at all.</em>
</p><p>“Are you quite certain of that, Ionas? There are only ruins at the Belmont estate.”</p><p>Ionas did a double take at Abigal, “Yeah, I’m quite fucking certain. We’ve gotta tell the village council, there has to be some sort of beast living in there.”</p><p>Abigal grimaced inwardly, “Yes, of course. We will do that right away. But how about we go to my house first and I take a look at your nose?”</p><p>He prodded the boy along the forest path, “You must be in a great shock right now.”</p><p>Ionas swiped away blood with the back of his hand and followed along. He was darting looks left and right and still breathed unevenly.</p><p>“What we were you doing that deep in the woods anyways, Ionas? You should know it’s not safe to there.”</p><p>“I was chasing a stag, I didn’t realize how far I’d gone. And suddenly there was this great dark fortress that had two dead bodies in front of its gates.”</p><p><em>“I knew this would happen,”</em> Abigal scolded himself mentally, <em>“This is what you get when there are vampires around – a bloody mess. Couldn’t they just urinate on road signs like werewolves?”</em></p><p>“In we go,” he said cheerily to Ionas as they reached the cottage<em>,</em> „You can sit right there.”</p><p>Reaching for a small cup Abigal filled it with not-at-all-suspicious liquid and gave the pitcher to the boy. Ionas drowned it one go, looked around hazily and then collapsed on the kitchen table. The pitcher rolled of the table and fell to the ground with a muffled thump. Few drops of golden liquid spilled to the floor.</p><p>Abigal pinched the root of his nose and looked out of the window.</p><p>“I suppose we’re going to have to deal with <em>that</em> then.”</p><p>---</p><p>Someone had come to the castle.</p><p>
  <em>There’s an unfortunate decision.</em>
</p><p>Alucard felt his insides shift with this new knowledge. Filled with a hungry sort of excitement his limbs started to move.</p><p>
  <em>Evidentially, my message has not been clear enough.</em>
</p><p>It was the sweet singing of cruelty that filled the dhampir’s soul. A pillar of twisted wrath that kept his spine straight. A promise of violence that filled his nostrils and swelled his lungs. Alucard couldn’t quite remember when he had become so hungry for violence. But the hunger kept him moving, the hunger kept him alive.</p><p>Alucard pushed open the large double doors. The castle seemed to groan with its whole being as the doors started to move. The sound echoed over the woods and for a moment it felt like there was an entire choir of mournful criers out there.</p><p>“One would assume,” said Alucard stepping out, “it’s obvious as it is,” he grasped the silver sword as it flew through the air and slashed it down in a wide arc, “that I wish <em>not</em> to be bothered.”</p><p>He remained stood in front of gaping entrance of the castle.</p><p>“Yes, your outdoor decorations do get that message across,” answered a hideous looking being that idled rather nonchalantly at the castle steps, “They also pose a rather serious health hazard. I mean corpses out in the open like this – it’s all incredibly unhygienic.”</p><p>Alucard stared at the creature with bafflement. From a mass of pitch black feathers a wrinkled face was glaring back at him with eyes as deep and dark as a bottom of a well in the middle of night. Those eyes, thrice as black as the raven’s coat, seemed to have a gravity of their own – rest of the world hazed away when you looked into them.</p><p>A shiver ran down Alucard’s spine.</p><p>The mildly human resembling thing continued speaking, “Also, impaling people, very last century – nobody does that anymore. Grotesque sculptures are the new hot thing nowadays. Preferably made from black marble. That’s very stylish.”</p><p>Alucard narrowed his eyes and took another step down.</p><p>“Who are you?” he said with voice so low it was crawling over the ground.</p><p>The creature wrinkled its crooked nose and ignored the question, “The thing with impaled corpses is that they will start to rot and that will attract flies and rodents and God knows what. And then before you know it they will be spreading some sort of a loathsome disease all around the place. And we don’t need that in this neighbourhood – the plague just ended.”</p><p>Alucard shifted the sword in his hand. He considered for a moment the possibility that he had actually lost his mind and was hallucinating the whole thing.</p><p>“You would do wisely to leave.”</p><p>“Would I now?” the being answered with amusement.</p><p>Alucard face twisted disturbingly into something between a smile and growl, “Yes, I believe so.”</p><p>The creature flicked a speck of dusk of its shining feathers, “Well, as much as I would like that, you have landed this appalling looking stone pile in the middle of <em>my</em> forest and thus I find it necessary to acquaint you with some basic decorum. Starting with: no corpses,” the being waved its hand at the dead bodies of Taka and Sumi, “out in the open.”</p><p>“Your forest?” Alucard said with a snarl.</p><p>Placing hands on its hips the being carried on, “You see, occasional manslaughter is fine, we’ve all been there. But just keep it tidy, keep it private, don’t touch the locals. You were doing just fine up until now.”</p><p>Rage flared up in Alucard’s chest with familiar warmth. The dhampir gritted his teeth forming an ugly grimace on his face, then relaxed his features and with unwavering determination started walking down the stairs.</p><p>“I think you’ve said enough.”</p><p>Alucard loosened the grip on his sword hand and with lighting fast movement willed the blade to shoot through the air. Nothing stopped the weapon as it followed a straight path to the creature’s chest. It cut between the black feathers. But the feathers only shifted away revealing a void of darkness underneath.</p><p>The sword slid in, then slid deeper and finally was consumed by the pitch black void all together. The feathers fell back in place and the creature stayed completely unharmed by the attack.</p><p>Alucard stared at the place where his sword had ought to pierce trough the creatures flesh and slowly blinked his eyes.</p><p>That had been, without doubt, witchcraft. Alucard had to admit that he hadn’t, up until now, actually acknowledged the fact witches really exist. He’d just kind of been hoping that of all things maybe witches might be the one thing that, for once, only was a myth. Apparently, he wasn’t that lucky.</p><p>“Well, that backfired,” the witch smirked. Then casually reached its hand between the long black feathers and inch by inch pulled out the silver weapon.</p><p>With a shock Alucard found the blade pointed in his direction. The witch held it with a careless demeanour.</p><p>“With a sword this ridiculously long people might think you’re trying to make up for something.”</p><p>Alucard wasn’t certain whether he should be more concerned with defending his manhood or his life.</p><p>“Keep talking and you might need to make up for a <em>head</em>.”</p><p>The witch raised its eyebrow and lifted the weapon away. It hovered in air for moment and then was hauled off in to distance. The blade dug deep in to the ground and was overgrown with black vines within seconds.</p><p>“<em>Shit, I liked that sword</em>,” Alucard thought to himself.  He tried to call the blade back but it wouldn’t obey his commands and stayed with complete indifference in the dark soil.</p><p> “You can pull it out when you’re worthy,” the creature said with a wide grin that had more teeth in it than anyone could ever deem possible.</p><p>Alucard straightened his back and smiled, “Oh please, now you’re just being cruel,” he said and darted forward in a blink of an eye.</p><p>His claws were just about to close around the witch’s neck when the creature’s body burst into a flock of ravens and evaded his grip. Alucard was only left grasping a few dark feathers.</p><p>The swirling mass of ravens gathered back together and as Alucard turned around the witch was already absent-mindedly sitting on one of the massive stone handrails of the castle.</p><p>Alucard suppressed the urge to scream.</p><p>“That was incredibly un-gentleman like of you,” the creature said with scolding voice.</p><p>It smoothed down a few ruffled feathers.</p><p> “But <em>nevertheless</em>, as a sign of good faith I have decided to sort these two out for you,” the witch added tilting its head in the direction of the corpses, “Take it as your welcome-to-the-neighbourhood gift.”</p><p>Unhurriedly it stood up, “But beware vampire, my good faith is not unconditional.”</p><p>As the last words were spoken the witch scattered into a cloud of ravens. Accompanied by the sound of dozen flapping wings it disappeared into the skies and Alucard was left standing at the empty castle steps. The woods around him creaked with the wind.</p><p>Alucard let out a puff of air.</p><p>“Hope I never have to deal with <em>that</em> again.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The extremely unwanted house guest</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Abigal stepped out of mister Dorinel’s house and looked at the busy town market. People were happily engaging in their everyday business. (Or as happily as one can be engaging in everyday business when almost all outside trade has been <em>literally</em> dead for the last half a year.)</p><p>It was going to be a nice day.</p><p>There was something about terrorizing the hell out other living creatures that filled Abigal with immense content for an astonishingly long stretch of time. The experience was so gratifying that he was in truth considering a second trip to the dhampir’s castle. It probably was not a good sign. Possibly a side-effect of doing black magic for years.</p><p>“Brother Grenfolus,” called a distressed voice from the other side of market and soon enough an all-too-familiar-figure appeared.</p><p>“Ionas. How can I help you?” Abigal answered raising his eyebrow. He prayed to God that the boy hadn’t started questioning his explanation about running in the woods and getting a concussion from falling as the reason behind waking up in the healer’s house with a substantial memory loss.</p><p>“Pastor Viorel is accusing old Magda of witchcraft,” answered Ionas through ragged breathing as he rested hands on his knees.</p><p>Abigal let out an annoyed breath. People around the market place shifted closer with interest.</p><p>
  <em>There goes the nice day.</em>
</p><p>“That’s just <em>splendid</em>. They’re at Magda’s house then?” Abigal asked looking not a small amount of pissed.</p><p>Ionas nodded.</p><p>Abigal sighed, pinched the root of his nose and then determinedly started tramping in the direction of the village edge. All the other bystanders looked around contemplatively and then abruptly stopped whatever they were doing in favour of following the clergyman.</p><p>Old Magda lived on the north side of the village, next to the blacksmith’s family. She was a lone spinster but thanks to her skill in creating beautiful fabrics and splendid embroidery she lived by quite comfortably.</p><p>Which of course naturally meant she was in league with the devil.</p><p>God forbid a lady having her own flourishing business.</p><p>Not in this this blessed country.</p><p>Abigal slowed his steps before reaching Magda’s house and put on his most humble face. In front of the house pastor Viorel was giving a heated speech. It was something about the deceptive nature of evil and the doom that will come forth should anyone abide to <em>any </em>of the seven deadly sins (the same seven deadly sins which unfortunately had become a bit of checklist for Abigal). Meanwhile Magda, who was a feet or so longer than the average housewife, was standing arms crossed next to the pastor and looking rather annoyed at the disciples who were rampaging through her house.</p><p>The blacksmith’s wife – Ionas’ mother – and some other closer neighbours were listening to the vicar’s tirade faces clouded with caution but quite thoroughly lacking any enthusiasm. Abigal silently stayed standing at the edge of the crowd. With an expression of great attention he started listening to the pastor.</p><p>Father Viorel continued his speech for a few moments, then noticed Abigal, stumbled with his words and abruptly finished the monologue.</p><p>“Brother Grenfolus,” said Viorel slitting his eyes with precaution.</p><p>“Holy father,” Abigal answered respectfully and bowed his head, “Some unsettling talk has reached my ears on the topic of the most terrifying forces of hell deceiving their way to our blessed village.”</p><p>(Due to the remote location, small population and, as the pastor liked to say, “the endorsement of the holy father”, Noslac was not plagued by the night hordes and was thereupon considered a blessed place.)</p><p>“Yes, indeed, Magda Fektus is guilty of serving the devil and bringing the vile forces of hell to our very own doorsteps,” announced the pastor turning to look at the crowd that had gathered.</p><p>“And what horrific acts of felony has Magda committed to?” Abigal asked. Begrudgingly the pastor had to look back at him.</p><p>“She cursed the baker’s family and put unholy thoughts into mister Dorinel’s mind.”</p><p>Abigal tried not grimace, “I thought that the baker’s family had measles and mister Dorinel was merely going through a light fever. But mind not my healer opinion; I am as well as blind to the ways of the God.”</p><p>Pastor Viorel sneered, “No doubt of that.”</p><p>“But let us not deviate from the topic at hand. Does Magda have the witch sign?” Abigal asked.</p><p>“Indeed, this woman is marked by the devil,” said pastor Viorel and grabbed Magda’s wrist to show the crowd a splotchy looking birthmark on the inside of her arm.</p><p>“So you’ve already washed her body with fresh milk?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Abigal looked shocked, “Father Viorel witch signs are only revealed when the devil’s servant is washed in the purifying milk of the cow.”</p><p>Viorel stared at him with confused disbelief.</p><p>“It is so written in brother Ruffel’s ‘Banishing the dark forces: A guide to purification”. One of the most outstanding authors of our time I must say, truly enlightened,” Abigal poked a hand into his medicine bag and pulled out a worn out copy of ‘Banishing the dark forces: A guide to purification’ (It is very useful to have a copy of ‘Banishing the dark forces: A guide to purification’ in one’s bag at all times). He then casually smacked the book open on the correct page all the while maintaining a pleasant eye-contact with the vicar.</p><p>Abigal coughed his throat clear and read out loudly, “<em>There are many ways to reveal the fallacious witchcraft that clings to the wretched women who sell their soul to the devil. All sorcery is a stigma on one’s soul and thus also a stigma one one’s body. To expose the blemishes of Satanism the witch must be bathed in fresh cow milk for its purifying powers wash away all deception.”</em></p><p>He then raised a single eyebrow at the pastor.</p><p>Abigal really loved that stupid book. It had probably saved more lives than any other work of literature.</p><p>Viorel slowly blinked his eyes, looking quite dumbfounded.</p><p>“What other evidence is there of Magda’s witchery, father Viorel?”</p><p>“There is no need for evidence when it is clear to any fool that this woman is a witch! How else come it to be that she is so wealthy,” Viorel was starting to lose his composure.</p><p>Abigal looked amused and slid over the given argument as if it were something so ridiculous it’s not even worth considering, “Holy father, you shouldn’t shy away from explaining your cause. Everybody is waiting for your wisdom with great eagerness.”</p><p>“The witch must be burned,” Viorel declared loudly.</p><p>“There is no reason to get emotional,” Abigal answered.</p><p>Viorel looked instantly a thousand times more enraged than a brief moment ago.</p><p>“You know what I think. I think we should settle this for once and for all,” Abigal said and the crowd hummed in agreement.</p><p>Abigal turned to the one of the disciples and said, “Do have any holy water on your person?”</p><p>The disciple looked confused but reached for a little class bottle that was hanging on a string around his neck as a talisman.</p><p>“Father Viorel blessed it himself,” said the disciple awkwardly.</p><p>“That’s perfect,” Abigal tucked away ‘Banishing the dark forces: A guide to purification’ and instead pulled out a small bible (Another useful book to carry in your bag at all times), “Come here, Magda.”</p><p>Magda walked to Abigal without hesitation.</p><p>“Put your hand on the bible, drink this bottle of holy water and declare to the honest people of our village whether you are a witch or not.”</p><p>Magda did exactly so and said with a firm voice that she is indeed not a witch. The townsfolk clapped their hands and cheered for Magda.</p><p>Viorel burned with anger over the fact that his anger was going to be only thing burning that day but said nothing. Abigal conclude he was probably planning a murder. Abigal’s murder to be precise.</p><p>“Well seems that the forces of the devil still cannot pierce trough the hearts of our honest people. You can rest in ease once again,” the crowd cheered again and seeing as there would be no more action slowly started to float away. The vicar and his disciples left with throwing accusing stares in Abigal’s direction. Abigal looked at them with a virtuous face.</p><p>“You know, Grenfolus, if you keep on going like this the vicar will burn <em>you</em> on the stakes for witchcraft,” Magda said quietly stepping next to Abigal.</p><p>“Don’t be ridiculous, Magda. Only women can do witchcraft,” Abigal answered with an almost serious face, “It’s even written so in the book”.</p><p>---</p><p>There were some parts of the castle that Alucard avoided. It was better that way. Even if by now it was hard, between testaments of bloodshed and memories of heartbreak, to find a place under the heavy black roof tiles that he could walk to freely.</p><p>It was, henceforth, only when Alucard was walking his carefully chosen path from one wing to another he noticed that <em>the witch</em> had indeed kept its word. The dead bodies of Taka and Sumi had disappeared. And in their place stood huge statues chiselled from what Alucard assumed to be black marble.</p><p>The structures were twice the size of life and depicted two lindworms in the act of consuming human remains. There was an unsettling contradiction between the serenity of the creatures and the repulsiveness of the deformed bodies.</p><p>Only when Alucard took a closer look at the witch’s handiwork did he realise that the two corpses wore familiar faces. It would have been inaccurate to say that the statues looked grotesque. The feeling they evoked was something that cut a lot deeper. Found that hidden place which was snugly set between horror and admiration. Alucard found himself transfixed by it.</p><p>It seemed that in his life horror and admiration would always be walking hand in hand.</p><p>The dhampir turned his back to the sculptures and walked up the stairs. He could feel the calm eyes of the two beasts following him. He didn’t turn around to see whether it was truly so. As he returned to the castle the building swallowed him eagerly into its darkness yet again.</p><p>---</p><p>Alucard was making breakfast. Strictly speaking it was noon but he couldn’t be bothered by that. He fried some onions and boiled some eggs, put a loaf of bread into the oven and found some cheese from the cellar that hopefully was <em>ought</em> to have mould on it.</p><p>It took him an hour and a half to set up the neat plateful of food.</p><p>When it was ready he just stared at it empty-eyed.</p><p>He would have probably stared at his breakfast empty-eyed for hours on end had not the kitchen table suddenly erupted into heavy swirls of darkness. </p><p>The darkness twirled around the room like smoke and then slowly started to coil away leaving behind only lingering swirls of shadow and, most importantly, a dark figure cloaked in black feathers. The dark figure stood rather smugly on top of the dining table and looked down at Alucard with an expression of great mirth.</p><p>“Heavens have mercy on me,” Alucard said while rubbing his temple.</p><p>“I’m afraid you won’t be too popular up there, darling,” answered the witch and crouched down.</p><p>“Anyways, I just wanted to make sure you haven’t taken up bathing in the blood of virgins as a hobby. Forgot to mention it last time but you should avoid doing that as well.”</p><p>Alucard raised his brows.</p><p>“My whole skincare routine will be ruined now,” he said flatly.</p><p>At such close proximity Alucard could see the features of his reoccurring intruder clearer. The witch had a crooked nose so long and pointy it could be weaponized and a mouth filled with tiny sharp teeth.  The tongue was forked at the tip. With the spider web of wrinkles criss-crossing around its face the creature looked old enough to remember the crucifixion of Christ.</p><p>“That’s unfortunate. Sadly, it would have a really bad effect on the birth-rate and with the current situation in the country we couldn’t survive another increase in population. Killing virgins is very unsustainable. I mean, I guess we could spare a few guys but women are definitely out of question. Lovely kitchen by the way.”</p><p> “Yes, well, I would advise you not to stand on the dining table unless you intend to be the next meal served,” answered Alucard, “Seeing as that would not affect the local <em>human</em> population.”</p><p>The witch snorted ungracefully.</p><p>“Anyhow, wondered if I could have a house tour,” it said then standing up.</p><p>Alucard’s line of sight was filled with the shine of fine dark leather boots that had and obscurely long nose and were tailored to be the perfect fit.</p><p>“No.”</p><p> “Splendid, let’s go then,” answered the creature and turned around on its (rather high) heels while stepping down the table.</p><p>This great decaying monster that was called his home had nearly nothing left in it worth admiration. In its dark hallways only darker thoughts would flicker in the corner of one’s mind. Alucard would’ve been ashamed to show this place to anyone at this point.</p><p>Alucard supressed a groan, looked up at the ceiling, and tried to do some calming breathing. When he looked back down the witch was already nearly out of his sight. With frustration he abandoned his breakfast and followed the extremely unwanted houseguest.</p><p>“It would look a lot nicer if there were more windows,” said the witch gesturing at the bleak stone walls, “Huge floor to ceiling windows.”</p><p>“In a vampire’s lair?” asked Alucard with amusement.</p><p>“Sunlight doesn’t seem to bother you anyways,” replied the witch offhandedly and stepped over a collapsed suit of armour.</p><p>“Not awfully,” said Alucard. And then nervously glanced at the direction they were heading to.</p><p>Alucard’s heart started to beat faster as the witch walked around another corner.</p><p>“I would possible even build a winter garden. With a pool.”</p><p>At the archway of the next corridor he came to a sudden halt.</p><p>The tapestries, as they hanged half ripped and burned from the wall, looked like great bleeding wounds. And no doubt the castle was in great pain – it was, after all, the echoes of its wailing cries that filled the corridors at night. And as the desolated fortress whined in pain it looked down at Alucard and lay its heavy judgement down on him like a blanket. Alucard felt like the castle was burying him alive and with every passing day the weight of soil was crushing down on the casket lid harder and there was less and less air left to breathe.</p><p>He was going to die in this house. Just like his father. And his ashes as well would be the dust that gathers under closets in empty bedrooms.</p><p>The witch kept on walking. Alucard swallowed and pressed hands into fists so hard his nails tugged into flesh.</p><p>With heartbeats echoing in his ears he took a step into the passageway and followed the damned creature.</p><p>“Maybe you should hire a servant,” said the witch, “This place really needs some cleaning up. And not in a sense that it’s bit dusty but in a sense that you literally have hole in the wall.”</p><p>The witch peeked into the gaping opening and corrected itself, “Several holes actually.”</p><p>“I’m. Aware,” Alucard gritted through closed teeth.</p><p>With its black eyes shining in the dark corridor the creature took a curious glance at Alucard, stopping for a moment on the dhampir’s clenched fists. Alucard quickly relaxed his hands.</p><p>The witch turned around and continued walking, “I would recommend a domowoy. It’s hard to meet one but once you befriend them they are very loyal. Very good with magical buildings, as well. These kinds of places tend to have a <em>personality</em>.”</p><p>As they walked through the next portal Alucard could finally breathe easier.</p><p>“You should be cautious about that. Magical structures are extremely intelligent but in a very emotional way,” said the witch looking at Alucard over its shoulder while bushing open a set of double doors. Turning around to face the new room it let out a gasp.</p><p>Inevitably they had reached the library. The creature’s feathers puffed up in excitement and its wild blown eyes started to gleam as it took in the sight of endless book shelves. Alucard wasn’t certain whether they’d ever leave the room.</p><p>“A fan of literature I see,” said Alucard.</p><p>The feathers were almost standing up when the witch shot from its place in a flurry of darkness and landed on the other side of the library with a loud whump.</p><p>“Is that ‘Orthography of construction and architecture spells’!” Alucard was surprised that the witch could recognize a single book from across the whole room, “Can’t believe you have this book in your collection while the house still looks like a mess!”</p><p>Alucard walked to the witch and took a peak over its shoulder. The rather ordinary looking book was filled with tight rows of foreign symbols resembling in their nature more mathematical equations than text. Alucard could only understand the few titles and some spare explanations that had been squeezed in to writing.</p><p>“Unlike some I’m not exceedingly talented in magic,” answered Alucard.</p><p>“Pity. This is peak accuracy in witchcraft. Lemming Freckle invented a whole language that is unparalleled in communicating intent to magic,” the witch sighed gently and then looked up at Alucard, “Completely wasted away on unappreciative folk like you.”</p><p>Alucard leaned against the bookshelf and rolled his eyes.</p><p>The witch placed ‘Orthography of construction and architecture spells’ very carefully back to the bookshelf and put hands on its hips.</p><p>“Is that a hole in the roof,” it said then pointing up at a broken panel in the glass dome above them.</p><p>Alucard looked up and grimaced, “Possibly.”</p><p>“Possibly?” echoed the witch and with that started an hour-long tirade of criticizing the state of the bookshelves, the systemization of the genres, the humidity of the room and pretty much all Alucard’s life choices in general. Alucard flopped down on the closest chaise lounge and listened to the whole scolding with moderate delight.</p><p>As nightfall started to creep by the witch finally took a look outside and cut off its argument about best positions for storing books.</p><p>“Oh dear, it’s dark outside. I must get going – I’ve got things to do.”</p><p>“Other than antagonizing me? I’m sincerely shocked,” answered Alucard. It came out bit sadder than he had intended.</p><p>“I consider this entertainment,” the witch said with a teethful smile. And then turning into a black raven flew out of the cap in the glass dome. Which was, taking into account past experience, a rather modest manner of departure.</p><p>---</p><p>The next time the witch visited was a few days later when Alucard was dusting the rugs in guest bedroom and hanging them out of open windows. The winter seemed to linger still. An unexpected cold wave had hit the early spring and now chilly air was creeping in from outside.</p><p>Alucard picked up another bed cover and turned around to hang it out. As he faced the window Alucard couldn’t help but let out a rather undignified high-pitched yelp.</p><p>The monstrosity that was sitting on the windowsill was a disturbing crossbreed between a vulture and something he could only assume to be a monkey with an additional big fleshy wormlike tail. The un-godly beast had a row sharp teeth peeking from between its beak.</p><p>“Oh, it’s you isn’t it,” Alucard said relaxing his shoulders.</p><p>The monstrosity turned into something slightly less monstrous and sat one leg over another down on the window edge. The witch grinned.</p><p>“That has got to be the most hideous thing I’ve ever seen,” said Alucard.</p><p>“Well, thank you. I’m flattered.”</p><p>Cold wind blew in from the window and the witch buried its long nose deeper in its coat of dark feathers.</p><p>“Here to do your routine admonishments?” asked Alucard putting down the blanket and placing hands on his waist.</p><p>“No, afraid I’m just popping through this time. I’ve got some troll and river spirit relations to sort out before things get out of hand,” the witch said.</p><p>Alucard blinked his eyes, “There are trolls around here?”</p><p>“Just one.  Lives under the bridge. She’s having bit of a shared territory conflict with the local Rusalka but it’s all really unnecessary – they could become great partners if they just talked things through.”</p><p>Alucard smiled with amusement. The witch just looked at him for a moment and turned its head away. Fluffed up from the chilly air and sunk almost to the nose in feathers the witch looked a great deal less foreboding.</p><p>“Anyways, I wanted to give you this,” the creature said reaching between its mantle and pulling out a small container, “Should help with the scars.”</p><p>Alucard stared at the small jar for a moment and then wit hesitation took it.</p><p>“The instructions are written on the label. I’m certain you will manage it.”</p><p>Dumbfounded, the dhampir just looked at the object in his hands. Before he could formulate some kind of an answer the witch had already turned back into its incredibly unsettling animal form and flown up to the skies.</p><p>Alucard looked at his rolled up sleeves. The red scars were angrily twisted around his forearms. He had forgotten about it the last time.</p><p>---</p><p>The following morning Alucard woke up in his new bedroom and merely by the overwhelming smell of witchcraft knew that the witch was somewhere in the castle.</p><p>It was a peculiar sort of smell. Bit like a wax candle that had just been blow out or like dust that has gathered on brittle book pages. Maybe a little like the smell of a fresh corpse as it’s just about to start oozing the scent of death lying on the cold wet forest ground. Like the first tendrils of smoke crawling between the logs as fire is being set to the pyre. Witchcraft smelled like something deep and dark and alluring. A lot like blood.</p><p>Alucard stretched in his bed and lay there for a few moments looking at the elaborate frost roses on the northern window. Finally he rose up and with a great yawn walked to the huge mahogany wardrobe on the other side of the room.</p><p>He took out a pair of white leather boots with gold coated heels and a row of extravagant golden clasps on the front. He felt rather smug about those boots. He was certain he could outdo the witch’s black leather boots.</p><p>Stopping for a moment in front of a tall mirror he traced the scars on his chest. Alucard was surprised how well the salve had worked – the marks had faded from angry pink into almost white. He took in a deep breath and pulled on a fine bell-sleeved blouse.</p><p>Straightening out his spine and putting on his best casual expression Alucard walked out of the bedroom and headed to the library.</p><p>Pushing open the double doors he strode in to the room.</p><p>“Is there anything you would like? Tea? Perhaps some coffee?” Alucard asked loudly.</p><p>“Tea sounds quite good actually,” said the witch who was prolonged on one of the settees and had its nose buried in another book.</p><p>“Glad you’ve made yourself at home in here. Really, no bother at all, waltz in whenever you want. It’s not like this is private property or anything.”</p><p>The witch didn’t look up from his book, “I’d also like some biscuits next to my tea.”</p><p>Alucard suppressed a snort.</p><p> “I’ll be right back,” he answered with over-extravagated politeness and disappeared to the kitchen.</p><p>When he finally returned with a tray of tea and porcelain cups (and biscuits, they had probably dried stone hard over time, but nevertheless biscuits) the witch looked up for the first time. There was a moment of silence when the shining black eyes stopped on the gold and white leather boots, on the exquisite blouse and then on Alucard’s face.</p><p>“Bell-sleeves look rather good on you,” said the witch burying its nose back into the book.</p><p>Alucard smiled smugly and placed the tray on a dinette. He leaned over the back of the settee and took a glimpse at the book in the witch’s hands.</p><p>“What have you found this time?” he asked .</p><p>“It’s a fairy tale book – ‘Tales from the Peculiar’,” said the witch and shuffled the book to show the dhampir the front cover. The books was bound in expensive black leather and decorated with golden ornaments. It was hard to gasp the image on the book cover at the first glance but if you looked at it longer an image of a high-born lady embracing an odd beast revealed itself. There was no author’s name written anywhere.</p><p>“Possibly one of the most mysterious books in the whole world. You see, no two books are never exactly the same – they may consist of different stories, or different versions of the same story or have illustrations you can’t find in any of the other versions. And most importantly, nobody knows where they come from. People usually just discover a volume in their library one day.”</p><p>The witch smirked then and opened the front page. Whit a blue crayon a child’s hand had written over the page “ADRIAN”.</p><p>“Well, <em>Adrian</em>, seems that your disgraceful attitude towards properly treating books has a long history.”</p><p>Alucard blushed, “First of all, I was three. Secondly, I prefer to be called Alucard.”</p><p>“Alucard?”</p><p>The witch was momentarily silent and then raised its eyebrows very high, “That’s just Dracula backwards.”</p><p>“Well… yes.”</p><p>The witch let out a loud snort. Alucard rolled his eyes.</p><p>“You might as well call yourself Dracula Junior,” it said through a wheeze.</p><p>Alucard walked to the dinette and threw a spoon at the witch. The witch only started laughing harder.</p><p>“If you’re next to table anyways why won’t you bring me a cup of tea?” the witch said with a snicker instead.</p><p>“I won’t bring you anything,” said Alucard while pouring out two cups and bringing them to the sofa.</p><p>“What’s your name anyways?” he asked then and carefully sat down next to the witch.</p><p>The witch grinned, “Oh darling, you either know my name or you don’t. But I can assure you it’s nothing as ridiculous as Alucard.”</p><p>Alucard handed the cup over and raised an eyebrow. The witch was about to add something but then stopped before opening its mouth and looked at the scarring around Alucard’s wrists.</p><p>“They’re silver inflicted scars aren’t they?” the witch said and wrinkled its nose, “Didn’t think about that. Silver is a real bastard to heal – it’s a purifying metal after all.”</p><p>Alucard took a surprised look at his scars, “They’re already a lot better.”</p><p>The witch put down its tea cup and took hold of the dhampir’s arm. Pulling up the sleeve it examined the scars closer. Alucard almost poured tea on his breeches.</p><p>“Well, at least the inflammation has receded,” the creature said and took its hand away.</p><p>“It was the two hunters in front of the castle wasn’t it?”</p><p>Alucard nodded.</p><p>The witch looked up to Alucard, “Well, sometimes people just try to kill folk like us. For no reason at all. It's just part of the circle of life at this point,” the witch waved its hand in the air, “No big deal.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm not dead yet. <br/>Took my time here but at this point I feel like I'm just overediting stuff so, I'm throwing this out here. No beta (but if anyone wants to be my beta I will gladly go down on one knee) we die like men.<br/>Will print out and frame every comment I get, possibly make an altar out of them. Thank you for all the kudos, they make my day!<br/>In next chapter I will hurt Alucard... a lot. Sorry guys.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Source of the bleeding</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Three assassins creeped through the woods. They footprints left a long trail on frozen ground but no sound came from their steps. The air was stuffed with thick white mist; it was snuggling close to the hunters as if trying to suffocate them.</p><p>The shortest one with transparent skin and eyes size of apples looked around tensely, “These woods are cursed.”</p><p>“Here we go again,” whispered the other assassin with dark skin and sharp vampire fangs under his breath. His eyes were black all over, not an ounce of white could be seen in them, nor did they seem to reflect any light. He was called Decabel, the devourer of hope.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be stupid Neculai, the peasants are just afraid of the old Belmont manor. And the Belmonts were demon hunters so I don’t think they were engaged in any sort of curse casting,” said the third companion, tall and broad-shouldered lady with blond hair that almost reached her ankles. She was a shape-shifter.</p><p>Neculai turned around and frowned, his pair of huge dragonfly wing twitched with anxiety, “No, Elisabeta, that’s not what I mean. Haven’t you heard the stories? Muma Pădurii lives in these woods.”</p><p>“Since when?” snorted Decabel.</p><p>“Around five years ago,” answered Neculai in earnest.</p><p>“Dear lord, you’re actually serious about this,” laughed Elisabeta.</p><p>“Some braver creatures have gone to Muma Pădurii when in dire need. Not all of them have returned. The ones who do came back tell stories though. Saying that Pădurii is the most powerful witch in Wallachia. That Pădurii banished the night hordes from Noslac. So there is at least somebody mighty living in these parts.”</p><p>“Christ, you sound like you’re almost in love with that old hag,” said Decabel.</p><p>“I really don’t think they’re an old hag,” Neculai said quietly.</p><p>“Yeah, well, we’re not here to meddle with any fairy tale witches. So don’t worry yourself about that, Neculai. We’re here to knock out this sorry dhampir lad and then go back to Styria and collect the money,” answered the female shape-shifter.</p><p>“Why do they want him dead anyways?” asked Neculai.</p><p>“Politics,” Decabel spat out.</p><p>Elisabeta shrugged her shoulders, “Yeah pretty much. Camilla wants everybody dead as of lately.”</p><p>An eerily human shaped wisp of fog floated past them. The three hunters eyed it with various degrees of caution.</p><p>“Which direction are we going anyways, I can’t see shit in this fog,” said Decabel after a moment grudgingly, “nor fucking smell it seems.”</p><p>“That way,” said Neculai, “it’s an enchanted fog, it will end soon.”</p><p>“Sure,” snorted Decabel but stayed silent when fog did indeed abruptly end and revealed a huge forbidding castle. The castle looked like the skies had started to leak thick black blood and the stain just dried mid-air. In front of the castle gates were two enormous sculptures depicting a pair of long tailed monster devouring human corpses.</p><p>“Creepy,” said Elisabeta, “Suppose we’ll just climb through the window, uh? Seeing as it is already broken and all that.”</p><p>The other two companions gave a nonchalant shrug and so the three hunters calmly headed to castle walls. They made no sound.</p><p>You might wonder how does one kill a dhampir.</p><p>Well, it’s really not that hard.</p><p>Step 1: Make sure you have concealed your body odour. Even a half-vampire possesses exceedingly keen senses.</p><p> </p><p>Step 2: On your walk through the gloomy magic castle pass a lovely family portrait. Let the accompanying shape-sifter take the form of the target’s deceased mother.</p><p> </p><p>Step 3: Remember to carry a poisoned blade with you, it will ensure a favourable outcome even if the victim only gets a small wound.</p><p> </p><p>Step 4: Let the shape-shifter enter the room where the dhampir is moping first. Watch as he stumbles away aghast from seeing the clear form of his mother’s ghost. He will stay frozen as the assassin glides closer. He will look up with wide amber eyes face filled with disbelief. He probably won’t realise anything is wrong until the silver blade ( a beautiful white silver blade with a lion devouring and unicorn engraved over the hilt and the steel) is forced through his guts.</p><p> </p><p>Step 5: Shit, it should have gone through his heart. He moved away on the last moment.  Well, he’s still fucking wrecked. Besides there’s three of you. Small divergence from the plan is fine.</p><p> </p><p>Step 6: And he jumped out of the fucking window. On the, what, 23rd floor or something.</p><p>Elisabeta gripped the window frame and looked down.</p><p>“He’s running away. Well, trying to,” said the shape-shifter and leaped through the window as well. Hanging mid-air she took the form of a huge white winged snake.  Neculai took flight after her and shot through the air with the speed of arrow. Only the glint of his translucent wings could be seen when he moved. Decabel grunted and simply jumped down, he landed on two feet and started running immediately.</p><p>Alucard had taken the form of a wolf. He was heading for the forest, going down the steep mountain side.</p><p>With the darkness of the night a bristling cold had arrived as well. Frost had covered the ground and the trees. And on the frost, behind the white wolf, there was a red stripe of leaking blood.</p><p>Alucard sprinted through the woods but had to stop suddenly when a huge white beast appeared in front of him. The flying snake creature snapped its’ huge jaws and sharp teeth clanked together only few centimetres from Alucard’s face. He stumbled backwards and lost control of his wolf form, settling once again back into his regular body.</p><p>Before he could start with a counter-attack he felt something crawling around his wrist. Alucard turned around and looked at the tree roots that had started to twist around his limbs. He tried to jerk free but instead the vines pulled him down with a sudden jolt. He fell to his knees and stayed there when a heavy punch landed against his guts. Alucard gasped when blinding pain shot through his fresh found.</p><p>The wound was hurting more than it was ought to. It wasn’t healing either.</p><p>He looked up at the odd fea creature who was keeping him tied up and growled. That earned him a punch into the face. Alucard tasted blood in his mouth; some of it was dripping from the corner of his lips. The fea was looking at him with an amused expression.</p><p>Alucard put all his mind power into trying to summon his sword from the castle while praying to any god there was that it would this time answer his call. He could only faintly sense the distant presence of the blade.</p><p>Elisabeta shifted back into her human body. The third assassin stepped lazily through the trees smirking at Alucard’s bound figure. He came closer and gripped the dhampir’s chin.</p><p>“Well aren’t you a beautiful half-blood. Almost a pity,” Decabel smiled and traced his thumb over the dhampir’s lips. Alucard wanted to snap at him, but the hunter had a firm clutch and Alucard couldn’t even move his head.</p><p>Alucard hissed. The assassins were just toying; they already considered him defeated.</p><p>Decabel crouched down and came eye-to-eye with his victim. He smiled sweetly and took out a small pocket knife; he tilted it theatrically before Alucard’s eyes and then shoved the small blade hilt-deep into the dhampir’s open wound. He yanked the knife upwards. Alucard let out a loud cry.</p><p>Decabel laughed joyously and pulled the knife out. Alucard chocked on pain. He could see black spots jumping around his vision. And then Decabel shoved the knife back into his guts. And pulled it to the side.</p><p>Alucard screamed.</p><p>The woods seemed to scream along him.</p><p>Decabel pulled the knife out.</p><p>Slowly and steadily blood was souring out of him. It was creating a black circle on the frosted ground. Alucard could see his own in reflection in that pool of blood.</p><p>The fea creature stepped behind Alucard. He gripped his golden hair and jerked the dhampir’s head backwards. The poisoned silver dagger was placed against his throat. Alucard swallowed down a whine.</p><p>“This is a rather pathetic end to the great Dracula’s bloodline. Wouldn’t you agree?” said Decabel standing up.</p><p>Alucard whimpered when another bunch landed against his guts.</p><p>“Any last words?”</p><p>Alucard coughed up some blood. He felt tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. He didn’t want the assassins to see him crying. Couldn’t help it though.</p><p>“No? Well, that’s fine by us.”</p><p>Adrian didn’t want to die.</p><p>He closed his eyes and felt sharp metal press against his skin. There was a quick whooshing sound and dull thump when a head bounced to the ground.</p><p>But it wasn’t Alucard’s head.</p><p>No, this head had shining eyes as big as apples.</p><p>Alucard pulled his hands free from the restraints and blundered away from the other vampire’s sharp claws. His silver sword pierced the air and blocked the next attack.</p><p>Alucard took a deep breath, gathered his last reserve of energy and teleported as far as he could. Which only landed him in thirty meter distance from the assassins. He clutched at his wound and teleported again.</p><p> The vampire and the shape-shifter turned around quickly. Decabel swore and blocked another swing of the silver sword and took off running after his prey. Elisabeta was a few steps behind him. The silver sword trickled down and stayed unmoving on the blood-soaked ground.</p><p> Decabel could see Alucard leaning on a tree in about twenty meter distance. The dhampir was clutching at his abdomen and struggling greatly to move any further.</p><p>Then suddenly the dark skinned vampire crashed against an invisible wall.</p><p>“The fuck is this?” he swore.</p><p>The contact sent sharp prickles of pain through his blood and straight to his guts. As if his insides had frozen instantly and then melted all over again.</p><p>The shape-shifter halted. Decabel looked up and saw a red flash as Alucard teleported again and escaped their line of sight.</p><p>“It’s a mushroom ring,” said Elisabeta while nudging at the ground suspiciously “Has to be some sort of black magic.”</p><p>“How’d he get through?”</p><p>“Try teleporting.”</p><p>Decabel shook his head, “I can’t do that either.”</p><p>“Well he’s as good as dead,” said Decabel after a moment of consideration, “Unless he finds a necromancer under some bushes.”</p><p> “Camille wanted his organs. As a proof. Remember.”</p><p>“Ah, those fucking monarchs. Well, we can take Neculai’s. Don’t think he will need his anymore.”</p><p>The two assassins took a look at their companion’s decapitated corpse that was lying in the distance.</p><p>“That’s fair I guess.”</p><p>---</p><p>One step. Two steps. Three steps.</p><p>If he were human you could see white puffs of breath forming from his mouth.</p><p>If he were human.</p><p>If he were human Taka and Sumi wouldn’t have tried to kill him.</p><p>If he were human the assassins would never have come for him.</p><p>If he were human his fathered wouldn’t have massacred half of Wallachia.</p><p>Oh, if only he were human.</p><p>Trembles were running over Alucard’s body. He was struggling to keep his guts in his belly but too terrified to actually glance down and look at the agonizing wound.</p><p>Did he know where he was going? No. Of course he didn’t.</p><p>He had been trying to go in the direction of the castle (empathizes on the word “trying”). But now he had no idea where he was and, in truth, continuing walking was only getting him more lost.</p><p>But it felt unnatural just to die without doing anything.</p><p>So he kept walking. Or crawling. Whatever was necessary for moving forward.</p><p>It was damp and dark outside. Branches above his head were arching and reaching down to him.</p><p>The assassins hadn’t followed him. They probably thought he would die on his own anyways.</p><p>They probably weren’t wrong.</p><p>The forest felt alive. Tree trunks were moving in the corner of his eyes. In the distance something might have run. A figure of mist just disappeared. When he turned around, eyes would look back at him between the tree stumps.</p><p>Alucard was feeling nauseated, the world was swaying around him, it wanted to swallow him whole.</p><p>On the next moment the dhampir found himself lying on the ground. There were wet leaves under his palms; they were slimy and half-rotten. They were sticking to his fingers. Black spots were dancing in front of his eyes. He was going to vomit and he wasn’t even sure whether his puke was going to just pour out of his stomach or not.</p><p>Alucard sighed and rested his forehead against the wet ground. He breathed in the smell of mud and blood, let it fill his nostrils. His body was shaking with surges of pain and cold was slithering closer to his heart.</p><p> “To die now would be so awfully stupid,” Alucard thought to himself.</p><p>He heaved himself up and continued walking.</p><p>One step. Two steps. Three steps.</p><p>He wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings and ended up wading through a small marsh. His feet got tangled in mud and sludge and tree roots. He fell over repeatedly. As the vampire assassin had said - it really was rather pathetic. It got more pathetic with every passing minute.</p><p>It would have probably been more dignifying if he just gave up and sank to the bottom of this stupid swamp.</p><p>Alucard had no idea how long he had been pursuing his piteous attempt at walking and thus he could also not tell how much time had passed before he started to see a flickering light in the distance.</p><p>He didn’t stop to consider whether it is a good or a bad idea to head to the distant light. Blood was flooding out of his body, his stomach had been cut open and his head was swaying. He just wanted not to die.</p><p>At times Alucard couldn’t understand if the light was getting closer or going even further. His senses were failing him constantly. It came as a bit of a surprise when he discovered himself leaning against a wobbly fence and looking at a tiny old cottage. Alucard could feel tears forming at the corners of his eyes. Light was shining from the windows.</p><p>Alucard breathed out.</p><p>He stumbled through the tiny yard.</p><p>And almost collapsed against the round wooden door.</p><p>He lifted his hand and smeared the door with blood and mud when he knocked on it.</p><p>Time gathered into lumps and then started moving again when steps sounded inside the house.</p><p>The door opened and Alucard fell. And he fell.</p><p>And he fell.</p><p>Pair of unsteady hands caught him. Adrian looked up and saw a crucifix hanging few inches from his face.</p><p>“<em>Oh, well that’s unfortunate</em>,” Adrian though before blacking out.</p><p>---</p><p>Abigal stepped into his cottage, hanged his huge straw hat next to the door and took off his bag. With a snap of the finger he lit all the fires inside the house. Mostly because another encounter with pastor Viorel prior that day had left his body filled with unsettled energy. Unsettled energy which in this case was pure irritation.</p><p>He stepped next a narrow wooden bed and kneeled down. In front of the bed was a worn out old rug. Abigal rolled it up and then reached for a small pocket knife to nick at his thumb. A drop of blood trickled to the faded floor boards.</p><p>Within a blink of an eye a glowing incantation circle appeared on the ground. The wicked looking drawing was constructed from crooked and spiked looking lines overlaid with curled symbols.</p><p>“I summon thy Vapula. Come out of your stinking hell hole. Share some gossip,” Abigal said to the summoning circle. </p><p>And as commanded, thick black fluid started to bubble from between the floor cracks. Abigal observed the liquid for few moments and then rose up.</p><p>“Must you always be so dramatic?” he said while walking to the kitchen counter.</p><p>As far as ways of coping with loneliness went, summoning a demon was perhaps a bit uncommon but it had, nevertheless, worked out very well for Abigal.</p><p>“Oh, be now, this is fun,” said a voice from the circle.</p><p>“That better not leave a stain,” Abigal said while waving a kitchen knife.</p><p>“It shouldn’t. I think. What’d I miss?” said the demon while still slowly constructing their physical body.</p><p>“Pastor Viorel tried to form an inquisition today. In Noslac! It was kind of pitiful to watch,” Abigal answered while ransacking through the kitchen cabinets.</p><p> “Are you sure you don’t want to solve this situation with him for once and for all? He’s becoming bothersome. You could just, you know, turn him into a flee or something.”</p><p>“Viorel is… easily manipulated and, you know, bit dull. It’s not too difficult to keep him in line.”</p><p>Abigal turned around to look at Vapula.</p><p>Vapula had a huge owl like body that was unnaturally stretched to the shape of a snake and altogether was so lengthy that the whole cottage was filled with the long swirling tale. Two long birdlike limbs reached out of the demon’s body with sharp claws at the end. Most eerily, however, Vapula had two humane looking faces on the either side of her head. It is indeed proper to say ‘humane looking’ because anybody who has seen a real human face knows that they don’t look like, well, that.</p><p>“How are things in hell?” asked Abigal.</p><p>“Apparently, we have a serious emigration problem. Demons are flooding out from all corners these days.”</p><p>“Because of the forgemaster?”</p><p>“And now also portals,” said Vapula and slithered around the cottage to comfortably curl into a huge pile in front of the fireplace. She tucked her long limbs under the wings.</p><p>Vapula took a peek at Abigal’s work surface, “What are you cooking?” she asked.</p><p>“Oh, I’m not cooking. I’m cutting fresh frog legs.”</p><p>“That’s disgusting.”</p><p>“They’re useful. I think that at least one quarter of all the spells I know acquire some part of a toad. I mean, it is quite possible that frog parts don’t have any magical properties whatsoever but I like to stick to traditions.  Besides that –” Abigal abruptly stopped talking as the sound of a loud thump came from the direction of the door.</p><p>It was followed by an unsteady knock. Vapula looked alarmed.</p><p>“I didn’t notice anyone coming through my wards,” Abigal said quietly but then straightened his back, wiped the kitchen knife and walked to the door anyways.</p><p>“How can I help?” he said opening the door and then instantly struggled with a (rather fucking heavy) body that had collapsed in his hands.</p><p>Abigal almost lost his balance and only with great effort managed to keep the stranger from falling face first against the ground with a loud thump.</p><p>“Jesus Christ,” he said sounding out of breath and then glanced down.</p><p>He almost stopped breathing altogether, “Alucard?”</p><p>Two golden eyes that usually shone as if the first eternal sunbeams had gotten caught in them now looked up at him hazily. With the flutter of the long black lashes they closed altogether. Only then did Abigal fully notice the blood and mud and dirt that the dhampir was covered with.</p><p>“Is that the half-vampire?” asked Vapula looking over the clergy’s shoulder with curiosity, “Looks a bit more dead than usually common for the undead.”</p><p>Abigal took a deep breath, “Yes it is. Yes he does. Help me get him on the dining table.”</p><p>Abigal heaved the stranger’s body into Vapula’s hands and then rushed to the kitchen table. He pushed away the pile of cutlery he’d left there in the morning and then reached for his medical bag. Vapula carefully laid Alucard on the table and then for one long moment both of them just stared at the dhampir’s stomach with immense distress.</p><p>“I guess we have the source of the bleeding now,” Abigal said and swallowed.</p><p>The wound reached from his groin to almost his sternum. There was another cut crosswise that went over his stomach. The blade had probably been poisoned; there were no sign of the body self-healing.</p><p>“Great,” Abigal’s experience with healing half-vampire was rather restricted if not to say non-existent, “Can you bring me a bottle of disinfection brew and the mermaid tears I have in the cellar room.”</p><p>“Will get right to that,” said Vapula while quickly moving next to the fireplace and pulling at a hidden lever. A huge bookshelf near the bed shifted and revealed a secret passage that lead to the cellar and the attic. The demon slithered through it and disappeared into the darkness.</p><p>Abigal closed his eyes, breathed in deep and stepped next to the dhampir with determination. He rolled up his sleeves and filled a wooden basin with clean water. When he blew on the bowl the water turned steaming hot.</p><p>As Abigal started cleaning the wounds bowl after bowl of dark red water was thrown out of the house. Soon enough the clergy had dried blood under his fingernails and eventually also on his cheeks. He used the disinfection brew to cleanse the wound and then added mermaid tears against the poison. He took out the surgery tools and selected a sharp needle and a long thread made from sheep intestines.</p><p>With a deep inhale Abigal looked up at Vapula, “Here we go,” he said.</p><p>“Have you ever done this before?” asked Vapula.</p><p>“Not precisely,” answered Abigal and pushed the needle trough the dhampir’s skin, “I know the basics.”</p><p>With great care he started to sew the wound edges back to together all the while quietly humming simple healing charms.</p><p>The wound seemed endless. Abigal’s eyes got tired from doing such a precise job in the dim room only lighted by handmade wax candles. The needle would get slippery from all the blood and he struggled to maintain a firm hold on it.</p><p>As the candles were burning low and Abigal’s fingers started to turn clumsy from tying together tiny knots, the wound was finally stitched together. Abigal gulped in some air and stretched his back.</p><p>Vapula took a look at the dhampir’s life indicators and then looked up at Abigal.</p><p>“Um… I hate to bring the bad news but his body is still not self-healing,” said the demon.</p><p>Abigal let out a loud groan and stared at the ceiling for few moments. He then sighed and looked at Vapula.</p><p>“I guess I’m going to have to do some blood magic.”</p><p>Vapula grimaced, “I’m not sure how good of an idea it is to use blood spells with a vampire.”</p><p>“I can assure you it is a bad idea,” Abigal answered, “But I’m not going to let the bloody dhampir die after spending several hours sewing him back together.”</p><p>Abigal reached for the little pocket knife he’d used before for summoning the demon and with a shift and habitual move cut over his wrist. Carefully he let the blood dribble on the dhampir’s chest.</p><p>Blood is, on the whole, 55 per cent water.</p><p>And the thing about water is that it has always been on this earth, centuries after centuries of endless transformation cycles from rain, to river, to mist, to sea, to the inside of an animal, to sewage,  maybe to the snot in the nose of the great queen Cleopatra and then into the soil of some poor famer in Wallachia. The water that is in our veins has been once in somebody else’s. It is carrying pieces of people long gone and dead inside ourselves. We are the very embodiment of all the conscious minds that have existed since the beginning of the times with the added benefit of an actual beating heart.</p><p>And that is why blood has so much power.</p><p>Abigal hastily put a bandage around his wrist. He then smoothly began drawing a complicated symbol from the blood that had dribbled on the dhampir’s chest. It looked like swirling combination of horned faces or a circular pattern made of different insects.</p><p>When the symbol was finished Abigal closed his eyes and softly begun singing.  His words sounded familiar but as soon as you listened more closely, seemed to make no sense at all. But, nevertheless, the world shifted, took a closer look at the situation and then promptly adjusted to the witch’s will.</p><p>Abigal leaned forward and chewed on his nails in anticipation. After a long moment a shudder ran through the dhampir’s body. His chest rose higher as a deep breath went through it. The clergy observed him until he was content with the outcome and then sagged against the chair.</p><p>“Well, so much about the nice chill gossip night,” said Vapula.</p><p>Abigal let out a breathless laugh.</p><p>“Can you ditch him on the bed?” he asked voice thin from exhaustion.</p><p>“Where will you sleep?” asked Vapula.</p><p>“Wherever,” answered Abigal and slowly blinked his eyes.</p><p>Vapula scooped up the dhampir and carried him to a small wooden bedstead.</p><p>With great effort the clergyman rose up and walked to the bed as well. He sat on the bed edge and started, albeit bit clumsily, putting bandages around the dhampir’s stomach. Abigal sighed gladly after finishing the job and then slowly turned to the demon. He had a slanted sort of smile on his face and a dark glint in his eyes.</p><p>With a voice as low thunder and sweet as honey he spoke aloud, “Vapula, go find who did this.”</p><p>The demon smiled wickedly and slithered out of the front door.</p><p>When Vapula left Abigal collapsed almost immediately.</p><p>He fell asleep, in the end, slanted against the opposite headboard of the small bed, sweetly unguarded in the presence of a half-vampire.</p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. On the nature of bloodlust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The early morning light, as it shone behind Alucard’s eyelids with near blinding brightness, was what waked him in the end.  His mind was prayed out of the unconscious bliss where there were no pains to experience and so when he woke, he woke sharply – with a jolt that ran through his whole body.</p><p>Alucard jerked up with a loud gasp. His breathing was ragged and he kept gulping in air without breathing out. He wrapped hands around his stomach as a confirmation he still wasn’t slowly bleeding out from or in danger of spilling his guts. Only when feeling the course material of the bandages under his palms he finally managed to calm his breathing.</p><p>It seemed, taking everything that had happened into consideration, that he had probably just risen from dead.</p><p>Alucard very slowly sat up straighter and then looking up froze completely – he wasn’t alone.</p><p>Asleep leaned against the opposite headboard of the small bed was a young man.</p><p>The position looked rather uncomfortable and the man was still clutching a roll of bandages. He had frizzled ginger hair that reached to his chin and a patchwork of soil-coloured freckles on his face. He looked peaceful, even in his wrinkled clergy robes.  Loosely hanging around his neck, at the end of a long glass rosary, was a silver crucifix.</p><p>Alucard leaned closer and reached for the crucifix. It burned a little when he held it between his fingers but he hardly noticed it at this point. The miniature Christ didn’t seem to suffer at all nailed upon his cross – rather his arms seemed to be spread as if inviting everybody for an embrace.</p><p>The cleric breathed in deeper, Alucard watched as his lips (his lips looked pink and soft and wet with salvia) parted slightly.</p><p>He crunched his nose.</p><p>Just a bit.</p><p>Slowly started to stir from sleep.</p><p>And then as abruptly as that Alucard lunged forward.</p><p>And there was no struggle against blinding hunger or great inner turmoil to which to succumb. It was as if all of a sudden Alucard lost all control over his body whatsoever. There was no build up (or maybe his whole life had been the build-up and he just hadn’t realised it) and with just a snap of the finger Alucard sank his teeth into the neck of an unsuspecting stranger who had fallen asleep tired from saving his life.</p><p>If not before, then at least by now it was clear as day that no good deed goes unpunished indeed.</p><p>The cleric woke up with a whimper. Still dissociated from sleep he couldn’t quite apprehend what was going on.</p><p>Alucard pressed closer gripping his fingers into soft hair. With movements yet slow from lethargy the clergy was starting to struggle against the offence, although, in fair, rather pointlessly so.</p><p>But the struggle. Oh the struggle made it all sweeter yet.</p><p>Alucard could feel blood coursing into his throat (deep and dark and oh so alluring), he was swallowing it with mindless eagerness, almost chocking on the large gulps of it. He licked the cleric’s neck. His skin tasted good too.</p><p>And when the stranger’s movements started to become more deliberate, his feet jerking and getting tangled in the bedcovers and hands attempting to push the dhampir away, Alucard moved even closer pressing his groin against the other man’s abdomen, pinning his hands to the headboard of the bed, shifting his position so he could sank his fangs deeper. That earned Alucard a loud groan. The sound made his heart beat three times faster.</p><p>He bit down harder and relished in the heavy wavering gasp. But still he could feel the indomitable need to get even closer. So Alucard let go of the cleric’s hands to grip at his thighs and hips instead. He could feel the frantic fall and rise of the other man’s chest pressed tightly against him, could feel overwrought beating of his heart through the blood that was surging straight to his mouth, could feel every sound that was forming at the back of his throat.</p><p>But then through gritted teeth of the clergyman came a desperate “Enough”. And Alucard almost wanted to laugh because there could be no force in the whole big world that could pry him away from clutching onto the other man’s neck. Or so he thought.</p><p>Alucard ended up flinging through the air and crashing against the kitchen counter on the other side of the cottage only a brief moment later. Bowls clattered to the floor from the collision and clattered into sharp fragments next to Alucard.</p><p>The clergy staggered out of the bed and grasped the headboard for balance. There was blood on his robes. He gripped fingers around his neck only to have them covered in deep dark red a moment later. The air tasted oddly of panic.</p><p>The clergy took one long ragged breath and with a peculiar sensation that made Alucard feel as if his chest suddenly had filled with heavy stones came dread.</p><p>There was a whisper crawling around the walls, a curse, a plea, a calling. The whisper seemed to form a body of shadows, wanting so badly to become alive. Wanting so badly to break through the wall of nonexistence and cause havoc. The other man, as he stood on opposite end of cottage, somehow managed to fill every inch of the room. He turned around slowly.</p><p>And then moved his eyes to Alucard.</p><p>“Can’t believe you bloody fucking bit me!”</p><p>The clergy glared at Alucard with a pair of very familiar pitch-black eyes.</p><p>The dhampir stilled in his place. Then slowly let his eyes glide over the blood-smeared fabric, the sporadic rise and fall of a chest and the blushed skin covered with freckles. He stopped at last on the shining eyes.</p><p>“I didn’t know it was you,” Alucard answered after a moment of silence and then duked away as heavy leather bound bible was hurled in his direction.</p><p>“Wrong answer you blooming dimwit.”</p><p>Alucard gripped the kitchen counter and heaved himself up. The movement made him wince from pain.</p><p>“Oh, well, you can consider it a reprisal for the repeating intrusions upon my property,” the dhampir said with a sly smirk.</p><p>“You ungrateful bitch,” answered the witch placing hands on his hips, “I have been the utmost exemplary neighbour at all times.”</p><p>“Invading privacy with no remorse.”</p><p>“Socialising with newcomers,” argued the witch.</p><p>“Antagonizing me relentlessly.”</p><p>“Giving insightful advice,” the witch crossed his hands.</p><p>“It wasn’t asked for.”</p><p>“You’re insufferable!”</p><p>“The feeling is mutual,” Alucard answered and couldn’t help keeping a smile off his face.</p><p>“I swear to God if you opened any stiches right now I’m not redoing them,” said the witch and clutched at the bed frame for balance again.</p><p>His voice was level and had a slightly impassive quality compared to the more shrill tone Alucard had grown accustomed to. It was perplexing to see familiar expressions on a completely different face, a lot younger face at that. The witch was overall far more… appealing looking then one might expect (“delicious” was the word Alucard so dearly was trying to avoid).</p><p>“I didn’t want- I didn’t <em>mean</em> to do that. I’m sorry,” he said with a quiet voice after a moment.</p><p>“You’d better be,” the witch took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling with anguish, “I’ve lost, what, five pints of blood?”</p><p>“Impressive suction proficiency by the way,” he added after a moment.</p><p>Alucard went, quite involuntary, red from his face. More so because there was a far greater amount of blood surging through his veins now.</p><p>The witch sighed and looked at Alucard, “<em>Have</em> any of the stiches opened?”</p><p>Alucard removed a hand from his abdomen and looked down at the bandages. He shook his head.</p><p>“Well, you should get some rest anyways,” said the witch and pushed himself forward to walk to the kitchen table. And went very white from his face as soon as he stood upright.</p><p>“Are you going to faint?” Alucard asked and reached out.</p><p>“No,” answered the witch.</p><p> And then fell backwards.</p><p>Alucard shot forward in a blink of an eye and caught the other man before he could collapse to the ground.</p><p>Draped over his hands like a swooning damsel the witch inhaled a wavering gulp of air and looked at Alucard angrily, “Put me down!”</p><p> Alucard huffed out a breath, “I’d rather put you somewhere softer.”</p><p>“Well I’d rather have you in at least two meter distance, pal.”</p><p>“I’m afraid the house isn’t big enough for that.”</p><p>As the witch opened his mouth to, in all probability, say something along the lines of “<em>Go fuck yourself</em>” the door of the cottage opened.</p><p>Alucard looked up.</p><p>The beast was blocking the whole exit, its body seeming like an endless mass of twirling feathered tail. Long limbs with sharp claws were hovering in the air ready to reach down and scalp the skin off Alucard’s body. Two humanish looking faces gleamed white with their unnaturally pale skin.</p><p>“Am I interrupting something?” came a low voice that echoed as two mouths spoke in unison.</p><p>Alucard wasn’t aware he had released his grip on the witch until the other man tumbled to the ground with a loud thud.</p><p>---</p><p>Abigal could now say with complete certainty that there was definitely nothing pleasant about vampire bites. Being bitten felt exactly like one would assume being bitten by pair of long sharp fangs feels like, which is, on the whole, rather damn painful. With the addition of blood being actually sucked out of your body instead of it naturally bleeding out – a sensation that is a great deal more uncanny than one would assume.</p><p>It was possibly also the stupidest thing he had gotten tangled in yet. Or at least somewhere near the top of his list of self-afflicted troubles. Very likely located between “Accidentally making a bargain with the king of the fae” and “Getting locked up in a basement with a werewolf turning the full moon”.</p><p>The clergy let out a load groan as his head hit the floorboards and looked up judgingly at Alucard. The dhampir, however, was frozen in place caught between apologising to Abigal and staring at the demon in panic. Abigal could almost see the hair at his nape standing upright like the mane of a startled cat.</p><p>“I was away for three hours and here you are, already mingling with the <em>vampire</em>,” gnarled Vapula flapping her wings open and spreading her hands in exasperation.</p><p>Abigal flushed red from his face, “I wasn’t mingling with the vampire.”</p><p>Vapula raised, what in theory could be, an eyebrow. Abigal rose to his elbows.</p><p> “Alucard here,” the clergy waved his hand in the dhampir’s direction, “decided to do a bit of an unprompted bloodletting.”</p><p>The demon turned to look Alucard, “Did he now?”</p><p>Alucard looked at the demon, then at Abigal and then back at the demon, “Well… yes.”</p><p>Vapula let out a snort, “That was a bright idea.”</p><p>“In my defence,” said Alucard stretching out of his crouched position, “he had it coming.”</p><p>“That’s fair,” said Vapula at the same time as Abigal yelled, “I did not!”</p><p>Abigal looked at Vapula in shock and then pointed at the demon accusingly, “I’m sending you back to hell.”</p><p>“Hmm, I would have thought you’d want to hear what I found out first,” said Vapula with tease. The demon closed the door behind her and slithered into the cottage. Alucard took a cautious step backward as the huge feathered body fitted itself into the small room.</p><p>“Fine, tell what you found out about the attackers and <em>then</em> go to hell,” answered Abigal and let his head fall back on the floor. He regretted the move immediately as a sharp pain shot through his nape.</p><p>Vapula sat on the kitchen table, “They were assassins sent by Carmilla of Styria.”</p><p>Abigal rubbed his face, “Another vampire,” he said with a hollow voice.</p><p>“So, Alucard, how’d you piss her off?” said Vapula and revealed a row of needle sharp teeth in a wide grin, “Ditched her after a one-night stand?”</p><p>Flinching from pain momentarily the dhampir sat on the floor as well. He leaned against the bed frame.</p><p>“I’ve never even met her. But she wanted my father dead as well so I suppose there has to be some kind of a motif. That is apparently… inheritable?”</p><p>“Isn’t it obvious?” asked Abigal and stared at spider webs between the ceiling beams, “She wants dominance over Wallachia. And you are by right the next Count.”</p><p>“Ah,” grumbled Alucard, “I’d forgotten about that.”</p><p>Abigal rolled eyes, “There’s an admirable ruler for you.”</p><p> “Are you going to come up from there?” asked Vapula and eyed Abigal as he lay on the ground.</p><p>Abigal wasn’t certain he could stand up even if he wanted. The blood magic was still taking its toll on him. Losing nearly five pints of blood probably hadn’t helped along. He felt exhausted.</p><p>“No. I’m staying here.”</p><p>“You can bring me ice though,” he said to the demon after a moment of consideration.</p><p>“Ice?” said Vapula, “Any other request as I’m already clearly here to slave around.”</p><p>“Yes, you can draw a bath for Alucard.”</p><p>“Yeah, that would be really nice actually,” admitted the dhampir.</p><p>Alucard watched as Vapula turned into a puff of (annoyed) black smoke and disappeared between the floor cracks. He then pitched the root of his nose.</p><p>“What the hell was that?” he muttered mostly to himself.</p><p>“Her name is Vapula. She’s a delight.”</p><p>“She’s a demon.”</p><p>“And that.”</p><p>Alucard was staring at him again. There was something very piercing about the dhampir’s eyes. Abigal felt rather distressed being perceived so thoroughly without the concealment of his mask. It made him feel over-aware of his looks. It made him feel trapped in his own body – as if God had imprisoned him in this imperfect husk of flesh just to mock him.</p><p>“You still haven’t given me a name,” said Alucard.</p><p> “You can call me brother Grenfolus,” Abigal answered looking at the dhampir with half-lidded eyes.</p><p>He was also called Muma Pădurii, Horror of  the Dark Woods, Witch of Wallachia but those names were probably more fitting for a occasions when he wasn’t sprawled all over the floor and, all in all, neither of those were his real name anyways. However, Abigal’s real name was rather lengthy and cumbersome and could be associated with a certain statutes he no longer possessed so he couldn’t quite use that either – so the dhampir was just ought to accept “Brother Grenfolus” for the time being.</p><p>Alucard raised his eyebrow, “<em>Brother</em> Grenfolus.”</p><p> “Yes, I’m a man of God,” Abigal answered suppressing a smirk.</p><p>Alucard snorted.</p><p>“Well, brother Grenfolus, I owe you my life.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, I’ll just come and claim your first born someday and call it a draw.”</p><p>“Ah, that would presume I in fact consummated one,” Alucard rested his chin in his palm. He looked exhausted as well.</p><p>“Is it so unlikely?” Abigal asked.</p><p>“I don’t think this bloodline should continue,” answered the dhampir.</p><p>“<em>Dramatic little twat</em>,” Abigal thought to himself.</p><p>“That’s really unfortunate for me,” he said instead.</p><p>Alucard let his head fall back exposing the long groove of his Adam’s apple. Abigal did <em>not</em> stare.</p><p>“I’m sure you can think of something else.”</p><p>---</p><p>The witch’s hut was a peculiar place. The single roomed cottage was narrow and tightly packed with mismatched furniture. All free wall-space was covered with bookshelves, counter cabinets and small cupboards. Books were piled on any even mildly horizontal surfaces, many in rather unstable and disorderly heaps – something that Alucard hadn’t had the moment to chide the witch for... at least not yet. He definitely wasn’t going to let it slide, not after the tirade he got for the not-at-all-too-bad state of his own library in the castle.</p><p>Alucard sank deeper into the warm water and observed the witch as he lighted candles while devotedly avoiding looking anywhere near the bath in quite an uncharacteristic display of decorum. Alucard on the other hand, couldn’t look away at all. There was something about Grenfolus that was just very fascinating. Maybe it was the stark contrast between his unnaturally black eyes and the soft features of his face. Or the way those implacable black eyes would glare at him framed by those fluffy curls. Or maybe it was the way his lips twisted into a sharp snarl and Alucard was forcibly reminded that this was the very same witch that managed to defeat him in a face-off with moderate ease and whom he had now indeed attempted to drain empty of blood. Which was completely… <em>fine</em>.</p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding be.”</p><p>Alucard turned his head to get a better look at Grenfolus. The witch was standing in front of a small mirror examining the bite wounds on his neck. With a sharp movement he pulled the collar back up.</p><p>Grenfolus pinched the root of his nose and looked at the ceiling, “There are six punctures on my neck. The bloody hell did you bite down three times for?”</p><p>Alucard opened his mouth, realised saying “<em>It felt good</em>” probably wasn’t the best idea, and closed it again. When Grenfolus glanced at his direction he just sank even deeper into the bathwater. The witch rolled his eyes and sat behind the kitchen table.</p><p>But it had felt good. It had felt so good.</p><p>Alucard closed his eyes and let his head fell back against the wooden edge of bathtub.</p><p>There had been a monster hiding under his skin for a long time, only waiting for the proper moment to strike out. And it felt good to feed the beast – the forbidden, as it came out, was delicious. In truth, if the witch hadn’t stopped him, he would’ve killed him. Would have killed him with <em>eagerness</em>. He would have gulped in every last drop of blood and then probably also licked his fingers clean. That’s how good it felt.</p><p>Alucard eyes snapped open the moment Grenfolus started removing bandages that were around his wrists. Alucard’s nostrils were filled with the scent of dried blood. The witch stilled. He didn’t look in Alucard’s direction but the dhampir could see the very slight tensing of his shoulders.</p><p>“I’m going to get more candles,” said Grenfolus standing up and grabbing a new roll of cloth from the table. He disappeared down a door that Alucard could swear wasn’t there a moment ago.</p><p>Left alone in the flickering light of the crooked wax candles Alucard let his head fall on his hands with a load groan.</p><p>He was… <em>fine.</em></p><p>---</p><p>Abigal rolled the bandages around his wrist while walking down the stairs to the cellar.  He then continued to stay in the basement for ten minutes longer than necessary just resting his forehead against the cold stone and breathing in and out. A ghost feeling of fangs biting into skin made the hair at the nape of his neck stand up. The sensation would linger there however hard he tried to ignore it. Abigal yearned for the comforting weight of his mantle again.</p><p>When he had finally gathered himself to go back upstairs he was promptly greeted by the sight of water dripping from broad shoulders and gliding down strong back muscles until it reached a towel wrapped low around narrow hips.</p><p>His world hazed for a moment and then came back to focus with a feeling of burning that overflowed his body and leaked out.</p><p>And as suddenly as that Alucard flinched away from the bath.</p><p>The water had turned into boiling black tar. The dhampir stared at the bath with a horrified expression and then looked at the equally shocked Abigal.</p><p>“Well fuck,” said Abigal, “I didn’t mean to do that.”</p><p>Alucard raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Is this a reoccurring phenomenon?” he said with a voice that was perhaps just a tad bit more high-pitched than usual.</p><p>It wasn’t. Abigal was still staring at the bath in shock. The tar had probably completely ruined it. He blinked his eyes and looked at the dhampir.</p><p>“Yeah, you know… magic.”</p><p>Alucard looked at him with an expression that was a mixture of grave disbelief and utter confusion.</p><p>“For reference, I really don’t,” said the dhampir wide eyed, “and I’m becoming increasingly more terrified of you.”</p><p>Abigal gave him a peevish smirk and shrugged his shoulders, “Well, that can only do you good.”</p><p>Alucard shook his head and started to pull on a shirt.</p><p> “Don’t bother,” said Abigal, “I need to change your bandages.”</p><p>Alucard lowered his shirt and placed it on the bed.</p><p>“Come sit on the table,” Abigal said patting his hand on the wooden surface.</p><p>The dhampir looked at him for a moment and obliged without a word. The table creaked under his weight.</p><p>“There’s a good boy,” Abigal said with a wicked smile and swiftly undid the entangled end of the bandages and started rolling off the cloth from around Alucard’s chest. The dhampir had become oddly still.</p><p>Abigal couldn’t quite reach behind Alucard so he had to step between his legs. As he lightly pushed the dhampir’s thighs apart the other man let out a sort of a sharp hitched breath.</p><p>Startled Abigal looked up. The dhampir was fixatedly staring at the bookshelf.</p><p>“Did something hurt?</p><p>Alucard cleared his throat, “No, everything is fine.”</p><p>Abigal undid the last end of the bandages and looked at the wound. It looked pretty much the same as the last night. The edges of the wound were closed but only held together by the stiches. There hadn’t been any healing on that part. Some of the redness had gone away at least.</p><p>Alucard was staring at the wound as well. Tentatively he reached out his hand and touched the wound very lightly. It zigzagged over his abdomen. The flickering candle lights cast shadows of his fingers as he traced the odd almost symbolic lines on his stomach.</p><p>“I was ought to die, wasn’t I?” said Alucard.</p><p> “Well, you didn’t. And I went through lot of trouble to make it so. In hindsight, really not worth the effort,” answered Abigal, “Should’ve finished chopping the frog legs instead.”</p><p>He reached for a salve on one of the nearby shelves and carefully started applying it on the wound.</p><p>“Nevertheless, it would be greatly appreciated if you made at least a moderate attempt at not getting into any life and death situation at the first possible opportunity. I had to perform a blood spell to keep you alive – those are no meagre matter to wrangle with.”</p><p>“Life and death situations? Like getting boiled alive in steaming tar?” said Alucard with a sneer and then after a moment, “Wait, you performed a what?”</p><p>“A blood spell. You’ve never heard of those? I had to briefly connect our life-forces, you weren’t self-healing.”</p><p>Alucard opened his mouth, closed it and then opened it again.</p><p>“And how exactly did you to that?”</p><p>Abigal lifted his bandaged wrist, “With blood.”</p><p>“Actually, no that I think of it, that might have influenced your blood hunger,” said Abigal contemplatively, “Pretty sure I read somewhere that vampires are more likely want blood that they have already tasted – I guess a blood spell might count as tasting… in a way.”</p><p>Alucard just stared at Abigal. The clergy looked at him questioningly and then realised exactly what his sentence had just implied.</p><p>“Ahh,” Abigal looked away, “Yes. Let’s hope that won’t develop into a problem.”</p><p>Alucard nervously slid a tongue over his teeth and breathed in deeply.</p><p>“I had never drunk human blood before,” he said then.</p><p>“Oh,” Abigal swallowed, “Great.”</p><p>Alucard stared at his throat.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hehe, buckle up for the unresolved sexual tension - it's gonna be here for a while. Is this self torture? Yes. Yes it is.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Basis of successful rhinoplasty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Me: *emerges out of thin air after six months of complete radio silence* Hi, guys! How are you doing? This chapter took a little bit longer, hahaha. Will post more soon. *vaporizes into mist and floats away*</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em>External jugular vein, internal jugular vein, external carotid artery</em>. There was a famine inside of Alucard’s body – a ceaseless craving for more and closer and blood, blood, blood – and it was turning into a black hole. Soon it would devourer his sense for there was nothing else to feast on. <em>Subclavian artery, subclavian vein, common carotid arteries.</em></p><p>Never in his life could Alucard have imagined that blood lust could be so all-consuming. He wondered if it was like that for the other vampires constantly and if yes then how they survived it.</p><p>He woke in the morning, as his insides rattled with vicious hunger pangs and his mind still clutched to the remnants of fever dreams, to the sound of soft humming. Alucard tried to blink away the distraught images of skin and blood and freckles before they could fully get settled in his conscious mind.  The visions did flicker away. But they left in their stead a lingering hint of shame yet to come.</p><p>Alucard pressed his face back in to the pillow and muffled a yawn. The humming stopped.</p><p> “Breakfast?” asked Grenfolus from the other side of the cottage and turned around to face the dhampir.</p><p>Alucard froze where he was nuzzled between the bedcovers. An itch settled into his fangs.</p><p>“What?” he said voice dropping low with a crack.</p><p>“As. In. Porridge,” answered Grenfolus.</p><p>“Ah,” Alucard tried not to be too obviously embarrassed, “Of course. Food. That sounds lovely.”</p><p>As Grenfolus looked at him, supressed smirk tugging at his lips, Alucard’s demeanour crumbled and a bright red flush spread over his face. Determinedly ignoring the other man he pulled on a shirt and rose up. He couldn’t quite keep in the whine of pain that the movement forced out of him.</p><p>Grenfolus wrinkled his nose, “That’s not too good. Take a seat before you fall over.”</p><p>He pointed his dipper in the direction of a wooden stool that was placed next to the table. Then took another look at the said stool and squinted his eyes.</p><p>“Be a darling and turn into something more comfortable,” he said and, with a disorienting pop that cracked through air, the stool turned into a huge padded armchair. The chair, made from ebony wood and covered with black velvet, took up almost a quarter of the floor space.</p><p>Grenfolus pinched the root of his nose.</p><p> “Thank you, that’s very <em>modest</em> of you,” he said to the chair with a fairly pained expression. The chair also popped out a padded foot stool.</p><p>Dubious magical origin or not, after sinking down into what seemed to be upholstery stuffed with goose feathers, Alucard had to admit this was probably the most comfortable armchair he had ever sat on.</p><p>“Anyways,” said Grenfolus and tapped his dipper against the pot edge twice, “let’s lay down some ground rules.”</p><p>“No molesting the permanent inhabitants?” asked Alucard and rested his head on a hand. Another yawn tried to break through but he forced it down.</p><p>Grenfolus cleared his throat, “Preferably.”</p><p>“Also,” the witch cracked an eggshell on the pan edge, “no permanent inhabitants will try to molest you.”</p><p>After having said that he looked pointedly at a plant with huge jaw-like blossoms growing on the windowsill that would time to time chew on something that Alucard could only hope were flies. It was crammed between a rosemary bush and an overgrown mint.</p><p>“That was directed at you, Mindy. Alucard is a guest; you are not to harm him.”</p><p>The leaves of the plant wobbled in a way that was eerily reminiscent of a shrug.</p><p>“The books in this room should be mostly harmless, feel free to look around. Unless, of course, you have a high sense of propriety in which case, uh, just be cautious.”</p><p>Alucard looked up and raised his eyebrow amusedly, “What? You have erotica in here?”</p><p>Abigal stirred the water in the tea kettle and didn’t look up, “Among other things,” then placed the kettle back down and started chopping ginger roots, “Anyhow, be wary of all bottles that lay around the place. I’m not quite certain what some of them contain anymore either.”</p><p>Ditching the ginger roots into the kettle he started slicing bacon. <em>Mindy</em> would try to bite Grenfolus as he did it and wouldn’t stop harassing the witch until it was also fed with some bacon. Alucard made a mental note to avoid going anywhere near the carnivore flower ever.</p><p>“All things considered, you are welcome stay here until the wound is healed. You can leave if you wish, but, firstly, it would be stupid and, secondly, I’d much prefer to keep a close eye on you recovery. Also, I’m not overly contented with the lack of proper wards around the castle.”</p><p>Alucard was keenly aware that the wise thing to do would be to stand up and leave immediately. However, that motion of sensibility was quickly smothered by the fact that he couldn’t stand up quite freely and, most importantly, that ravenous part of him, as it shifted and prodded around his insides like a child discovering a hidden room in a castle, didn’t want to leave at all.</p><p>“Why do you bother?” asked Alucard.</p><p>Grenfolus flashed him a smirk that had a familiar quality of having more teeth in it than could ever rationally be possible, “As I have already said – I’m just an utmost exemplary neighbour.”</p><p>With the grin still lingering over his lips Grenfolus turned back to his cooking.</p><p>“Oh, and if the frog starts talking then you’ve haven’t gone crazy, it is ought to do that,” the witch added swirling around for the last time.</p><p>“What frog?” asked Alucard dumbfounded and then followed the tip of the dipper to the bookshelf where a blue frog was floating in a glass container.  The dead amphibian had apparently been located only few feet from his bedstead. It was exceptionally big and had a very lumpy looking skin texture as well as some additional body parts with indeterminate purposes. It would float in the slightly yellowish liquor looking lavishly ominous.</p><p>“Oh, that frog,” Alucard looked at Grenfolus, “I suppose it’s better if I just didn’t ask.”</p><p>Grenfolus, who had turned back to chopping another cooking ingredient, let out an open laugh. The sound sent a shiver through Alucard’s insides – almost involuntary he smiled too.</p><p>“Ah shit,” said Grenfolus as his knife slid from the carrot and nicked his finger.</p><p><em>External jugular vein, internal jugular vein, external carotid artery.</em> Grenfolus made a quiet squeaking noise and put the thumb into his mouth.  As he pulled it out to check the cut, the finger glistened wetly with saliva. <em>Subclavian artery, subclavian vein, common carotid arteries.</em> Alucard would have liked to put that finger into his own mouth.</p><p>---</p><p>Abigal had spent the day making milk go sour (a rather exemplary witch-activity with an innovative twist of making the milk go sour in his own house), creating a mental list of all the things Alucard’s eyes remind him of (1. Honey in the heat of midsummer sun, 2. Tree resin that will cause tiny bugs to get stuck in it and then stay fossilized as amber gems for the next ten thousand years, 3. The rare precious stone his mother used to wear in front of her white silk collar as candlelight reflected on its surface) and contemplating over how long it will take until the dhampir lunges forward and sinks those sharp fangs back into his neck because however charming the amber eyes were, they would with increasing frequency turn bright blood red.</p><p>Nonetheless, Abigal wasn’t certain whether it would impolite to point such a thing out so he had thus far kept his mouth shut. It’s not like the dhampir had done anything to act on his urges. <em>At least not yet.</em> Instead he seemed to struggle a great deal with acting as cordial as possible.</p><p>“Anyways, the magical properties of salamander eyes are exactly the same as toad eyes,” chattered Abigal and held out a tiny bottle made of black glass to Alucard, “Bottoms up. There isn’t that much of a difference between one amphibian and another – it’s all purely superficial.”</p><p>“There aren’t any frog parts in this are there?” asked Alucard.</p><p>“Oh no, this is just for the pain” said Abigal as his eyes were momentarily caught by the sight of slender fingers and long white claws, “Toads aren’t commonly used for healing magic.”</p><p>“However, there is some snake skin-” Abigal looked up and words died on his mouth. He tried to swallow down a lump as blood red eyes started back at him with ferocious intensity. Again.</p><p>Alucard tilted his head on a side and Abigal caught a glimpse of a tongue sliding over a fang. The dhampir raised one eyebrow.</p><p>The clergy cleared his throat and then said with a voice that was only perhaps a little bit strangled “You do now you’re eyes go red when you think about blood?”</p><p>Alucard blinked his eyes and sat up straighter. The crimson glint disappeared from his eyes.</p><p>“Every time I think about blood?” he said with panic.</p><p>“Yeah, that was the seventh time today.”</p><p>“Not quite every time then,” said Alucard with a relieved sigh and then at Abigal’s distressed expression flushed red from his face.</p><p>“Exactly how frequently have you been complementing over drinking blood?”</p><p>Alucard rubbed his temples, “Not certain I’ve stopped at all.”</p><p> “That is not very reassuring.”</p><p>“You don’t say.”</p><p>“We’re getting you some blood.”</p><p>Alucard had opened his mouth to say something more but after Abigal’s statement he closed it with a clack of teeth.</p><p>Abigal spread his hands, “Well it’s either me or the barrels. Follow along.”</p><p>“What barrels?” asked Alucard as the clergy rose up and walked to the cellar door that would appear and disappear from existence according to necessity.</p><p>“You’re about to find out,” said Abigal.</p><p>The dhampir rolled his eyes and rose up. He followed the other man down a narrow spiralling staircase.</p><p>“You don’t have any ghouls down there do you?”</p><p>“At least there weren’t any yesterday,” said Abigal.</p><p>They arrived in a small vault with arched stone walls that were lined with shelves of various sizes. On one end of the room was a huge wooden autopsy table. (Autopsy is a completely reasonable side hobby).</p><p>With the snap oh his finger Abigal lighted the lanterns in the room and then marched to shelve that had a row of small barrels placed on it. He lifted down one that had the writing “BLOOD. Werewolf ancestry. Not virgin. 16th November 1478” painted on it alongside various carefully crafted preservation symbols.</p><p>“Is this,” Alucard eyed the room and the barrels with caution, “normal for witches?”</p><p>Abigal looked up from where he was propped on the wooden vessel, “Relatively.”</p><p>As Abigal was starting to consider pouring blood from the barrel to the cup (which was a somewhat bad solution) Alucard finally just took the pitcher from his hands and dipped it into the liquid. The blood that was dripping down the cup he simply licked off. Abigal couldn’t help going red from face despite his best efforts.</p><p>“Cheers,” he said weakly.</p><p>Abigal stood staring as the dhampir gulped down the whole pitcher. As Alucard drained the last drop and looked at Abigal with an expression that managed to be a mixture of both anguish and relief he nudged the barrel closer to the dhampir and glanced down at it.</p><p>“I can get animal blood from the village tomorrow so don’t worry about that.”</p><p>Alucard sighed.</p><p>In the end they winded up sitting on the cellar floor propped against the cold stone wall and facing the huge operation table. Every now and then Alucard would take a sip from his cup of blood while Abigal companionably quaffed mouthfuls of whiskey from a half-empty bottle he found tucked away on one of the shelves.</p><p>“Vampires are considered juvenile until they’re fifty years old?” Alucard asked unbelievingly. He had been only fiddling the cup for almost ten minutes which was thus far the longest break he had managed.</p><p>“Yeah, one human lifespan is average time for maturing as a vampire. You know, that’s cause your immortal. Though, you know, there’s not much research on dhampirs,” Abigal mumbled drowsily.</p><p>Alucard answered with a nonchalant “hmm”. </p><p>The air smelled of mould and wet soil and the lanterns were casting trembling light over the shelves. In fickle flutters of illumination one could see oddly shaped class bottles with long necks and sharp silver blades with elaborately designed handles lined against the wall.</p><p>“You know a lot about vampires,” Alucard said turning his head to look at Abigal. When Alucard looked at him it made Abigal feel jittery in a manner that he couldn’t actually fidget around but his skin was itching with the need to do so.</p><p>“It comes with the profession,” Abigal hiccupped, “Can’t be a proper witch unless you have approximate knowledge of nearly everything.”</p><p>Alucard laughed.</p><p>Abigal took another swing from the whiskey bottle, “What can I say? Vampires are just naturally prone to create trouble. There’s a lot of dealing with them around here.”</p><p>He then propped his head on one hand and sighed, “I’m going to feel very bad tomorrow morning.”</p><p>Alucard nodded, “Yes, you are,” he tilted his head against the stone wall, “But you can blame it on the trouble creating vampires again.”</p><p>Abigal kind of tried to avoid looking at Alucard directly. The act of doing so would deluge his mind with an endless cluster of lines from all the tens of dozens romance novels he had read as a teenager. Now, at last, he understood why his mother insisted those books were a bad influence.</p><p>But what else could he think of? With his skin as clear as candle wax and his hair falling from his shoulders in heavy twirls of light-golden waves. The glow of a nearby oil-lamp would illuminate the few individual stands of hair that had gotten ruffled and they’d gleam shining white like a halo around his head. And when his long eyelashes fluttered just a bit, Abigal’s heart would flutter as well and then twist into a tight knot of envy and bitterness and <em>yearning</em>.</p><p>“How old are you really?” he asked then with curiosity.</p><p>“Twenty one,” Alucard said giving Abigal a quick side-glance.</p><p>The clergy puffed out a laugh, “Can’t believe I’m actually older than the vampire.”</p><p>“Older?” Alucard lifted an eyebrow.</p><p>“Twenty five.”</p><p>“Oh, you look younger than that.”</p><p>“Hmm, it’s probably the short height… or the freckles. The freckles look childish.”</p><p>His brothers had tauntingly used to call him their ‘little scarecrow’. And to be honest, Abigal had always considered it quite an accurate description. His face really looked like a patchwork of rags.</p><p>“I don’t think that… They look,” Alucard grimaced as he suddenly had to take another swing from his cup, “lovely.”</p><p>“I’ve never seen freckles quite like that before,” he added.</p><p>Abigal was glad that the cellar was badly lit because he flushed as red as a beet. He tried to cover it up by taking another sip from the bottle.</p><p>He was <em>fine</em>.</p><p>“Why do you have barrels of blood in your cellar?” Alucard asked after a moment of silence.</p><p>“What do you think?”</p><p>“For bathing in it on full moon as you perform dark spells in the woods with your fellow witches?”</p><p>Abigal smirked and lifted his bottle at Alucard, “You’ve got it.”</p><p>“You’re joking.”</p><p>“Usually on red or new moon rituals. Full moon is more for just dancing naked in the forest.”</p><p>Alucard inhaled slowly eyes fixated on Abigal. Not lifting his gaze from the other man he took another huge swig of blood.</p><p>“Charming,” he said.</p><p>---</p><p>Abigal turned another page in his notebook and then spent the next five minutes shuffling around his writing desk in search of the spell book he definitely had taken with him to attic before coming up. Or not. Abigal stared at the candle flame for a moment of casual self-loathing. Alucard had gone to sleep hours ago. The book Abigal so very much needed right now to finish sketching out his new array idea was most likely located on the bookshelf right above the sleeping dhampir.</p><p>Abigal tapped his quill against the table in irritation. He was on verge of a great breakthrough in here. If he could just look at that one binding spell example. There was no way he could go to bed now. He would stay awake for <em>hours</em>.</p><p>Making up his mind, Abigal took the short wax candle from the table and made his way to the staircase.</p><p><em>“Please don’t creak,” </em>directed Abigal his prayer to every damn blank in his house, “<em>Excessively</em>,” he added after somewhat giving up as the first step let out a thoroughly unnatural grinding sound.</p><p>Making it to the ground level Abigal opened the vanishing door (accompanied by the sound of discreet <em>wheezing</em>) and entered the main chamber. He raised a hand in front of the candle flame and then crept very slowly closer to the bookshelf. And there it was. <em>Binding, bonding and other relation-centric spells</em>. Stuffed tightly between a copy of “Alternatives to reptiles in potion making” and a worn down volume of “The great discoveries of alchemy”.</p><p>Abigal lifted a finger preparing to summon the target of his midnight odysseys and then stopped abruptly. A whimpering sound caught his ears. He looked down at the bed and the sleeping figure lying there.</p><p>A sheen of sweat covered Alucard’s forehead. His eyeballs were jittering back and forth under the closed lids. Through parted lips came terse whined breaths. With a tremble that ran all over his body he grasped the bedcovers into a tight knot and twisted in an entirely abnormal way.</p><p>Abigal leaned back in shock. This looked like a very bad fever reaction. Was something wrong with wound? It took him a full minute to parse out the real source of Alucard’s ailment.</p><p>A nightmare.</p><p>Alucard let out another stifled whine and Abigal straightened his back with determination. The dhampir looked like he was being tortured alive, Abigal couldn’t just stand by. He was aware that it could, potentially, perhaps on a theoretical level, be considered relatively unwise to wake a vampire from a nightmare but, alas, he was lost-fucking-case when it came to self-preservation anyhow.</p><p>Abigal nudged the dhampir’s shoulder gently and when that did nothing hesitated for a moment. Then he sent wave of ice-cold shock through his body.</p><p>Alucard jerked up with a gasp. Abigal pulled away barely fast enough to avoid a painful collision between his nose and Alucard’s forehead. He took a moment to congratulate himself for no one getting physically injured. Then after a brief glance at Alucard decided that it was perhaps better not to get ahead of the situation.</p><p>“Sorry about that, you were having a nightmare.”</p><p>Alucard had hunched forward and was breathing out in uneven shaky gulps. Clearing the throat he shook his head.</p><p>“It’s alright. You did me a favour, really” Alucard threw his head back and let out a broken laugh, “Again,” he added then.</p><p>Abigal blinked his eyes in confusion. Alucard sounded brittle, as if he were elegant clockwork that got assembled in all the wrong ways and then restarted in spite of the gears grating against each other. There was an undertone of flippancy and weight of sarcasm to Alucard’s voice when he was in good mood. There was none of it now.</p><p>Making sure not spill any hot candlewax Abigal sat on the bed edge.</p><p>“Well, yes, some people are just extraordinarily excellent hosts. I’ve got it all perfectly worked out: first haul your guest around the cottage using dark forces; then try to burn them alive in boiling tar and, finally, wake them up in the middle of the night with a freezing shockwave. Honestly, I think I should probably start writing a handbook on hosting etiquette, I’m beyond exceptional.”</p><p>Abigal observed with contentment that when Alucard laughed again it sounded far less grinding. But still quite melancholic. He placed the candle on a nightstand and reached for the dhampir’s goblet of blood.</p><p>“A wiser person would’ve been taking notes, you know,” he added.</p><p>“I don’t really get many visitors,” said Alucard with a low voice and then after a moment, as if a dam had been broken, started speaking again, “In truth we never really got any visitors. It was always just the three of us. Father didn’t want any other vampires around. Probably for the best, I imagine any vampire would’ve said I smell like food. That could’ve been quite traumatizing for a child. Humans were out of question as well, they didn’t understand. Even if you tried to hide it, they could just sense the abnormality on you. Instinctively almost. Besides I never acted quite right for my age. Other children always thought I was freaky. So it was just better to avoid me altogether. But it didn’t matter. I still had my parents.”</p><p>Still staring at the ceiling Alucard inhaled heavily. His eyes flickered in the dark as they caught the few spear traces of light. He took another deep and shaking breath. And then started crying.</p><p>Abigal blinked his eyes, he was still half-mindedly holding onto the blood pitcher. He was at a bit of a loss.</p><p>“Alucard,” he said. He wasn’t quite certain what to say next. He looked at the blood in the cup and back at Adrian.</p><p>“Do you want some warm blood with honey?” he said.</p><p>“What?” croaked Alucard through his tears.</p><p>“I mean I would offer warm milk with honey but the milk went sour yesterday. Well, I accidentally <em>made</em> the milk go sour yesterday, to be precise,” Abigal was aware he was rambling and could do nothing about it, he summoned a spoonful of honey, “But I just thought it might work with blood as well. I’d personally rather drink blood with honey… I think.”</p><p>He blew on the cup to heat it up and then stirred the spoon around. Then he passed the goblet to Alucard, “Here you go.”</p><p>The dhampir blinked his eyes sluggishly.</p><p>And accepted the cup.</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>Alucard took a sip from his cup and rested his head on a hand.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I know I’m being ridiculous. My father was a mass murderer. It’s ludicrous to miss him.”</p><p>Abigal tensed up, “Don’t say that.”</p><p>Abigal’s heart was bounding a little faster. He had to close his eyes and take a deep breath.</p><p>“You shouldn’t deny yourself grief. He was your father.”</p><p>Alucard looked up in bewilderment, “He committed genocide.”</p><p>Abigal felt the world start to dim around him, “Your father considered himself above death. In truth he had grown distant from it. It was his demise to be undone by the one thing that the humans he so much had grown to despise were better at than him – to accept death and grieve. Don’t repeat your father’s mistake.”</p><p>Alucard looked startled. With delay Abigal realized that the shadows around him had started to slither.</p><p>“Ahh,” he said apologetically and waved the shadows away, “Ignore those.”</p><p>The cottage room settled into silence. Only the very quiet cracking of the candle flame could be heard in the air. Abigal started at the floor boards. Alucard still seemed to be caught in his mild state of shock.</p><p>Abigal felt embarrassed about his outburst. He remembered his own father still clearly. Could recall the shape of the wrinkles around the corners of his eye if he wanted. Father had been kind and beautiful and too good for mother. But still they had loved each other. It was an ugly desperate sort of love. And it was entirely inevitable. Father’s death had been inevitable as well. The sickness came and it went and it left grief so great in its stead that Abigal all but crumbled beneath it. It was then that he realised that, in its own way, all love is ugly and desperate. And entirely inevitable.</p><p>Abigal sighed and looked at Alucard.</p><p> “What’s your favourite filed of science?” he asked.</p><p>Alucard quirked raised his eyebrows.</p><p>“Come on, this is a serious question.”</p><p>“Physics,” said Alucard, “Or alchemy.”</p><p>Abigal nodded approvingly and snapped his finger. A heavy copy of “The makings of a world” landed on his lap.</p><p>“Scoop over,” he ordered which was more or less an impossible task because the bed could barely fit Alucard as it was. The dhampir obliged obediently anyways. Even if his golden eyes stared at Abigal questioningly. The clergy toed of his boots and raised his feet on the bed. Making himself comfortable he opened the book and started reading aloud.</p><p>When Abigal woke in the morning, with feet tangled in the bed covers and a neck pain so severe he got blind spots running in front of his eyes, Alucard was already up. He was standing next to the kitchen counter and slicing apples. There was tea boiling in the kettle.</p><p>“Breakfast?” asked Alucard. And Abigal laughed.</p><p>---</p><p>“And then you take a leaf and measure out the part of the nose that’s going to be operated,” explained Alucard as he sat on the table of Grenfolus’ attic study and animatedly waved around a random piece of paper while explaining the surgery he had read about some five years ago.</p><p>The attic study served as a somewhat hazardous storage room that was now also on double duty as Grenfolus’ bedroom. Maybe not a <em>bed</em>room per say. There was mattress stuffed with hay on the other side of the room.</p><p>Grenfolus had warned Alucard to approach all objects in the study with a note caution if not outright fear. The writing desk in front of the small round window was, however, fortunately only occupied by half-finished spell drafts (and some kind of a glowing black rock that might actually have been quite dangerous but, alas, there are exceptions to every rule and etc) and could thus be classified as a relatively safe place to sit down. </p><p>“Why a leaf, though?” asked Grenfolus looking up at Alucard. He was sitting on sturdy armrest chair in front of the desk and swirling a quill in his hand. Ink was dripping from the quill – it had smeared his fingers black.</p><p>“Because there were a lot of leaves lying around I presume,” answered Alucard with a note of uncertainty, “Anyways, you then use the leaf to cut out a correctly sized flap of skin from either the patient’s cheek or forehead. But – and that’s very important – in a way that a little part of the skin stays attached. Otherwise you just have a piece of dead meat to deal with.”</p><p>Alucard had to take a sip from his goblet of blood to suppress the smirk that was tugging at his lips. Grenfolus was making a sound that was caught between choking and laughing.</p><p>“I must admit in the next part the translation from Sanskrit was bit unclear but overall the idea was something along the lines that you take a knife and grate raw the part of the face that the new skin is going to cover,” Grenfolus burst out laughing, “And I think you also had to put two plant stocks in to the nostrils so the nose would keep its original shape.”</p><p>Alucard felt a forceful tug going through his insides when he watched Grenfolus’ wiping away tears of laughter. His insides seemed to be living a life of their own as of lately.</p><p>“Afterwards you simply place the patch of skin into its new spot, sew it together, dust it with some licorice root powder and then regularly apply sesame oil on the bandages. And there you have it – a <em>successful</em> rhinoplasty.”</p><p>“Fascinating. Do you want to try it?” said Grenfolus and leaned forward with a passionate gleam in his eyes.</p><p>Alucard looked into his big black eyes and felt momentarily breathless.</p><p>“Fortunately, I have a very nice nose so that’s a no for you,” he answered.</p><p>“Where’s your sense of medical entrepreneurship?” said Grenfolus and leaned back while rolling his eyes.</p><p>“I’d like to avoid being physically mutilated until I get married.”</p><p>“I’m sure you could pull it off.”</p><p>“Well, yes, in a sense that I wouldn’t <em>die</em>,” Alucard scratched his nose, “<em>Probabl</em>y.”</p><p>After a moment of consideration Grenfolus tried again, “A scar would make you look more mysterious.”</p><p>Alucard let out a laugh, “I think being half-vampire makes me mysterious enough.”</p><p>“Fair enough,” said Grenfolus with a shrug. Absentmindedly he started to chew on the tip of his quill.</p><p>Alucard tilted his head to the side and watched with amusement as ink leaked on Grenfolus’ lower lip.</p><p>“Wait, didn’t you say you wouldn’t get married?” Grenfolus asked with puzzlement as he turned towards Alucard again. The black smear ran over his jaw.</p><p>“I said I wouldn’t produce an heir,” said Alucard and leaned forward, “You have ink on your…” He reached a hand to Grenfolus’ face and took hold of his chin.</p><p>Grenfolus looked up at him in confusion.</p><p>Alucard brushed his thumb over the ink stain.</p><p>The skin under his fingertips was warm and soft and flushed pink. He stopped his thumb at the corner of Grenfolus’ mouth. He could feel the hot breath coming from between the parted lips.</p><p> “That might develop to be bit troublesome in a marriage,” said Grenfolus with a raised brow.</p><p>Alucard withdrew his hand with a smile. He wiped the ink into the fabric of his pants.</p><p>“Well theoretically it depends on who you marry,” he said while looking at the grey splotch on his thumb.</p><p>Grenfolus tilted his head to the side with a frown. Then his eyes widened.</p><p>“Oh,” Grenfolus flushed red from his face, “Yeah, erm… in that case, probably not.”</p><p>He looked nice with a flush on his face. Alucard kept noticing that a lot.</p><p>---</p><p>Alucard started at the ceiling while playing unconsciously with the tufts of yarn dangling from the blanket trim and tried all his best not to think about Grenfolus. Which was hard because lying in the small wooden bed, too short for Alucard to properly stretch out his legs, he was inevitably wrapped in the smell of Grenfolus as it clang with determination to the bed sheets, the pillow case and the patch-work quilt on the top.</p><p>So instead he would listen to soft noises that always seemed to accompany the peculiar little cottage. The hut too sounded like a living organism with all its buzzles and murmurs and quiet rumbles but unlike the castle, the house sounded mirthful and, maybe, just a tiny bit mischievous.</p><p>The bed would creak every time he moved and the walls would squeak from wind and the slow shifting of the earth underneath the house. And if you listened carefully enough you could hear the timber hum as insects moved inside the old building logs. There was also a variety of sounds that came and went through the days – the sizzle of a brew overboiling on a hot stove, floorboards groaning under the weight of Vapula’s endless body, gentle jingling of wind chimes outside the house.</p><p> Or, as Alucard realised with increasing dread as he lay there in the darkness of the night – the muffled sound of short gasped breaths. Frozen in his bedstead he just stared at the ceiling boards above him.</p><p>It was only to be expected, Alucard supposed, as his whole attention shifted to the nearly undistinguishable noises that leaked down from the attic, Grenfolus was after all a lively young man and Alucard had been around for nearly a week. It was only natural he would indulge himself. He was also being very quiet about it. Nobody could’ve noticed him, <em>unless they had supernatural hearing</em>.</p><p>Alucard closed his eyes and clutched the blanket into tight knot in his fist. <em>Shuffle of bedcovers</em>. He tried to swallow but his throat was dry. In the bit of his stomach something twisted and turned. <em>Quiet creaking of floorboards under a shifting weight. </em>With a wave of shivers that ran along the skin, hardness gathered in his groin. <em>A gasp for air.</em> The need to wrap a hand around that hardness was a violent tug at his whole being. <em>A broken whimper</em>. He could only resist it by not moving at all. <em>A groan that was bit down before it got out. </em></p><p>In his head Alucard could see it all too clearly – a ginger-haired figure on his stomach sprawled over a thin mattress, face pressed into a worn-down pillow, one hand clutching at the sheets while the other moved carefully between the thighs, the movement restrained by the lack of space. That image was going to plague him forever.</p><p>The thing was, after what happened with Taka and Sumi, Alucard felt like he wouldn’t want anyone to touch him in that way for a very long. There seemed to be an insurmountable breach between his mind and his desire – a discrepancy that could possible never be overcome.  But it hadn’t really mattered; it was going to him and just him for the rest of the foreseeable eternity anyways. Yet here he was. Acutely aware that he would very much like to touch Grenfolus and be touched in return.</p><p>Alucard’s lay in his bed wide-eyed and unbreathing and listened to the oh-so-cautious tiny little moans that were muzzled by a pillow yet still managed to reverberate through every cell in his body.</p><p>The stillness when it came, accompanied by ragged breathing, left Alucard with a gaping hole in his chest the size of a well and a tremble that shuddered through his blood and bones. Ignoring the furious hardness in his groin, Alucard wrapped the blanket around himself and turned on his side.</p><p>Alucard thought, as his heartbeats echoed through his mind, that the dreams he was going to see tonight would probably kill him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A huge thanks for the rhinoplasty surgery description to Sam O'Nella Academy and the "Pre-industrials surgeries" video on Youtube. It's a god damn gold mine. It will possible also be the wildest 8-minutes of your life.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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